
VlLLIAHVARRm 
ii EDITION ■ 

OrSTANDARDPlAYS 



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1 



VALTER H .BAKER & CO. 

mj • HAMILTON • PLACE 

BOSTON 






THE AMAZONS ^^^^^ ^° Three Acts. Seven males, five females. 
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THE 6AY LORD OUEX ^^"^^dy in Four Acts. Four males, ten 
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WOc 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



Much Ado About 
Nothing 

A Comedy in Five Acts ^ 



By 
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



This acting version is based dn the Prompt-Booh pre- 
pared by Winthrop Ames, director of *'The Little 
Theatre, ^^ New York : former director " The New 
Theatre,'' New Tork, 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
1916 ' 



Much Ado About Nothing 



CHARACTERS 



Benedick, o young Lord of Padua. 
Don Pedro, Prince of Arrugon. 
Don John, his bastard brother. 
Claudio, a young Lord of Florence, 
Leonato, Governor of Messina. 
Antonio, his brother. 
Balthasab, attendant on Don Pedro. 
BoBACHio \ followers of 
CoNRADE J Don John. 
Fbiab Fbancis. 
DoGBEBBY, a constable, 
Veeges, a headborough. 

oItSS: }^cttchmen. 

A Sexton. 

A Messenger. 

A BOY. 

Hebo, a daughter to Leonato. 

Mabgabet ") gentlewomen attending 

Ursula J on Hero. 

Beatrice, niece to Leonato. 



Lyceum Theatre., 
London., -, 
Oct. II., l8S2.: „ 

Henry Irving. 
W. Terriss. 
C. Glenny. 
Forbes Robertson. 
Mr. Feruaudez. 
H. Howe. 
J. Robertson. 
F. Tyars. 
Mr. Hudson. 
Mr. Mead. 
S. Johuson. 
S. Calhaem. 
Mr. Archer. 
Mr. Harbury. 
Mr. Carter. 
Mr. Haviland. 
Miss K. Brown. 
Miss Millward. 
Miss Harwood. 
Miss L. Payne. 
Ellen Terry. 



Hollis St. Theatre., 

■Boston, 
Feb. /, l8g2. 

Robert Taber. 
Chas. B.Han ford. 
Thos. L. Coleman. 
Wm. Stuart. 
J. M. Fraucoeur. 

Edm. Lawrence. 
Dodson Mitchell. 
Walter Thomas. 
Giles Shine. 
H. A. Weaver. 
Edm. Lawrence. 
Edwin Howard. 



Eugenia LIudemann. 
Marie Knowles. 
Kitty Wilson. 
Julia Marlowe. 



Gentlemen, Dancers, Watch, Attendants on Pedro, Choristers, etc. 
Scene.— Messina. 




Copyright, 191 6, by Winthrop Ames. |J> 
©CI.D 45553 ^0^ 



OCT 28 !SI6 



\ . 



Introduction 



" Much Ado About Nothing " is supposed to have been written 
in 1597-98 and was first published in quarto by Valentine Simmes 
on August 23, 1600. The text that appears in the first folio is sup- 
posed to have been printed from an altered and corrected copy 
of this quarto that had been actually used in the theatre in con- 
nection with performances of this play — prepared possibly by the 
author himself for that purpose. The basis of this theory is the 
fact that the name of an actor, Jack Wilson, is here and there sub- 
stituted by inadvertence for that of the character that he assumed 
— Balthasar. 

The remote source of its plot is supposed to be a novel by 
Bandello ; its immediate source an antecedent play upon the same 
subject entitled " Benedicte and Betteris," A character, Innogen, 
the wife of Leonato, appears in the cast of characters and is men- 
tioned in the stage directions of the play as.it comes down to us, 
who neither speaks nor is spoken to in the text, and who is assumed 
to be a survival from the earlier piece in which she may have been 
actively concerned. The play as we have it was, however, also 
acted under the title of " Benedict and Beatrice," Charles I's 
copy of the second foHo, preserved at Windsor Castle, bearing 
upon its title page the manuscript addition of this phrase as a sec- 
ond title, as if it were the more familiar one. We learn from 
Leonard Digges that these two characters were prime favorites 
with its first pubHc. 

"Much Ado About Nothing" is believed to have been first 
acted by The Lord Chamberlain's Company in or before 1600, but 
no definite notice of its performance has been discovered and no 
knowledge of its original performers has come down to us save the 
hint regarding Jack Wilson's participation, mentioned above, and 
the tradition that Will Kempe enacted the part of Dogberry and 
an actor named Cowley that of Verges, The single early mention 
of it as an acted play occurs in the manuscript accounts of Lord 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION 

Harrington, Treasurer of the Chambers to James I, in which it is 
stated to have been one of the plays performed by John Heminge 
and the rest of the King's Company before Prince Charles, the Lady 
Elizabeth and the Prince Palatine Elector in the beginning of the 
year 1613. From a subsequent entry dated May 22d, of the same 
year, the comedy appears to have been then acted under the title 
of " Benedick and Beatrice." 

It received the usual "improvements" to suit the tastes of a 
later age : with this more or less laudable purpose Sir William 
Davenant in his time mingled together with somewhat unfortunate 
results the texts of this comedy and of " Measure for Measure " ; 
while many years later, James Miller, a lecturing divine of Ox- 
ford, took equal parts of "Much Ado About Nothing" and "La 
Princesse d' Ehde," by Moliere, altering the names of all the char- 
acters, and produced a play which he called " The Universal 
Passion," which was produced February 28, 1737. This hybrid 
was chiefly wonderful in the circumstance that it ran the proverbial 
period of nine days and then died. 

The first performance recorded by the sedulous Genest was 
given February 9, 1721, at Lincoln's Inn Fields playhouse, Ryan 
being the Benedick of the occasion and Mrs. Cross the Beatrice. 
Genest adds : " not acted 30 years," from which it appears that 
its first popularity had deserted it. The great Garrick made his 
first appearance in the part of Benedick on November 14, 1748, 
supported by Mrs. Pritchard as Beatrice, and twenty-seven years 
later, on November 6, 1775, he again played the part at Covent 
Garden Theatre with the sparkling Mrs. Abington, who on that 
occasion played Beatrice for the first time at the age of thirty- 
eight. Twenty-two years after this, at the age of sixty, she acted 
Beatrice with almost unabated charm and capacity to the Bene- 
dick of Lewis. Mrs. Abington had only two really famous 
predecessors in this part — Mrs. Pritchard, David Garrick' s first 
Beatrice, who made her first appearance in the character to the 
Benedick of Ryan, March 13, 1746, and Mrs. Barry, who ad- 
ventured the part in support of Lee, at Covent Garden, November 
8, 1774, the performance being announced as " for the first time in 
twenty years." Garrick' s acting in the role seems to have been 
approved from the fact that eight performances of the play were 
given at the time of his first appearance, but his failure to revive 
the piece for so long an interval may be regarded as evidence that 
the part was not a favorite with him. 



INTRODUCTION 5 

On February lo^ 1778, Henderson appeared for the first time as 
Benedick at Drury Lane Theatre, supported by Miss Pope, and on 
April 30, 1788, John Philip Kemble and Miss Farren were seen for 
the first time in this play. In 1831 Fanny Kemble appeared 
as Beatrice, supported by her handsome father, Charles Kemble. 
Oil February 24, 1843, at Drury Lane Theatre, Macready pro- 
duced this comedy in sumptuous style, making the first attempt to 
costume it with absolute propriety. His Benedick was supported 
by^ the handsome Mrs. Nisbett as Beatrice. The inevitable 
"freak" performance has not been lacking, Creswick having 
doubled the two parts of Benedick and Dogberry at the Holborn 
Theatre, London, in 1872. The really notable Beatrice of recent 
times is that of Ellen Terry, first seen in support of Henry Irving 
on the evening of October 11, 1882, at the Lyceum Theatre, 
London, where the play ran for two hundred and twelve con- 
secutive nights. This admirable performance is well remembered 
in the United States, where it began a successful season at Haver- 
ley's Theatre, Chicago, on February 15, 1884. 

The first American performance of '* Much Ado About Nothing " 
may have been given on the Island of Jamaica, where the comedy 
was announced for the benefit of Mrs. Hughes to be given on 
October 20, 1781, by the American Company then visiting the 
island. Mrs. Hughes died suddenly on the i6th, so that the play, 
if then given, was deprived of her services. 

On March 18, 1789, this comedy was presented in Philadelphia, 
at the Southwark Theatre, which, with a managerial enterprise 
that compares very favorably with current manifestations of this 
quaUty, had been opened in this same month within a week of the 
repeal of the Act of Prohibition against the theatres after a ten 
years' battle. Hallam was the Benedick and Mrs. Morris the 
Beatrice. The first recorded performance of this play in New 
York was given May 30, 1796, with Mr. Hodgkinson and Mrs. 
Johnson in the leading roles. Boston first saw " Much Ado About 
Nothing" on September 26, 1796, with Mr. Chalmers as Benedick 
and Mrs. Williamson as Beatrice. In 1828 Clara Fisher appeared 
in this play at the Tremont Theatre, in this city, to the Benedick 
of the elder Wallack who, twenty-four years later, supported the 
Beatrice of Laura Keene. On May 14, 1859, this veteran bade 
his farewell to the stage in the part of Benedick, at the age of 
sixty-four, to the Beatrice of Mrs. John Hoey. 

On October 25, 1844, the celebrated Charlotte Cushman essayed 



O INTRODUCTION 

the part to the Benedick of Vandenhoff, and on October i8. 1852, 
JuUa Bennett Barrow and Mr. Conway appeared in this play.' The 
performances of Adelaide Neilson. Ada Cavendish, Mrs. Mowatt 
(to the Benedick of E. L. Davenport). Modjeska, Fanny Daven- 
port and Juha Marlowe were notable among others, and are ad- 
miringly remembered. 

F. Ji. Chase. 
June 16, igi6. 



SYNOPSIS OF SCENES 



Act I. 
Act II. 



Act III. 

Act IV. 

Act V. 



• Average Playing 

Time 

-Afternoon. 13 min. 



Courtyard before Leonato's House. - 
Leonato's Garden.— Evening. 

(iV. B. The curtain ivill not be lonvered betiveen 
Acts II and III.) 

Scene j. Leonato's garden. — Morning. 

Scene 2. Leonato's garden. — Afternoon. 

Scene J. A street. — Night. - - - 

Scene i. A church. — Morning. 

Scene 2. A prison. — Afternoon. 

Scene i. Courtyard before Leonato's House. — 

Evening. ... - 17 min. 

Scene 2. Before Leonato's Monument. — Night, 

just before daybreak. - - 2 min. 

Scenes. Leonato's house, the Terrace. — Morn- 
ing. - - - - - - 6 min. 

Place. — The City of Messina. 



47 mm. 

10 min. 

10 min. 

18 min. 

■ 7 min. 



Much Ado About Nothing 



SCENE PLOTS 



ACT I. 
Courtyard Before Leonato's House 



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8 



SCENE PLOTS 



i.* 



ACT II. 
Leonato's Garden. 



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ACT IV. —Scene J. 
A Church. 





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(At I 










lO 



SCENE PLOTS 
ACT IV. — Scene 2. 




ACT v.— Scene 3. 




POSITIONS FOR THE FINAL DANCE 







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Much Ado About Nothing 



LIGHT PLOTS 

ACT I. — Scene i. 
COURJTARD BEFORE LEOHARTO'S HOUSE: Afternoon 




nsir 



^ 



<i«i 



TSTj^ 



T=f/J"^-J3E? 




Amber and white foots and borders. 

A B Amber arcs behind cut drop on cyclorama back drop. 

C Amber arc behind r. 2 e. 

D E F Amber arcs from fly gallery and electric bridge trained 

across stage. 
G G Strips behind cut drop. 
No change during scene. 



II 



12 



LIGHT PLOTS 
ACT II. 








CU^v^ 



^ 





At opening A B blue arcs on cyclorama -behind cut drop. 

G G G Blue strips behind cut drop. 

D E Steel blue arcs from electric bridge and fly gallery trained 

across stage. 
H Blue strip behind gate. 

Lights in fountain connected with borders — or arranged to work in 
same colors — blue, red and amber. 
Hanging lamp from roof of arbor. 



Standing lamps on standards 



A// these lighted at 
rise and arranged 
to go out, or be 
carried off on 
cues. 



Light to illuminate painted lantern in cut 

drop. 
F I Arcs behind transparent cyclorama not 
G J lighted at rise. 

Full blue foots and borders, with a little white except back border 

which is entirely blue. 

CHANGE of LIGHTS at last part of ACT L 

After exit of Beatrice on cue, "Cousins, God give you joy" 
begin X.o gradually take off arcs from fly gallery and bridge D and 
E, and A and B on back drop, and strips G G G and strip H. 
They should be taken off so as not to be noticed, and should be all 
off when Don Pedro, Hero and Claudio exit on cue, " Go in with 
me, and I will tell you my drift." 

As guests carrying lanterns exit, check foots and border as each 
lantern goes off stage. 

As servant puts out hanging lamp V in arbor, put out that light 
and check foots and borders. Ditto light X behind cut drop. 



LIGHT PLOTS 1 3 

As each standing lamp is carried out put out W Y Z ditto. 

As last lamp goes out stage should be almost black with only 
yrt/;// glimmer in foots and borders. 

As Boracbio enters with trick lantern and holds it up, check 
foots and borders as low as possible, so that they can go black out 
\yhen he blows out trick lantern. 

As Borachio blows out trick lantern, borders and foots go black 
out, and stage is completely dark. 

CHANGE of LIGHTS between ACT II and ACT III, 
Midnight to Dawn. 

N. B. The curtain is not lowered between Acts II and III but 
there is a musical intermezzo from two to three minutes or longer, 
and during this lights change. The music is descriptive of (i) 
midnight, (2) the coming of dawn, (3) daybreak, and (4) full day, 
and lights should change somewhat to follow character of music. 

After 45-60 seconds of black darkness (timed from the blowing 
out of trick lantern) a pale rose dawn light begins to show in the 
sky of transparent cyclorama (lights F G); from the sky it creeps 
down over the sea. Light behind drop brightens to red then 
orange. Then work up back border (ambers, not red) very 
gradually till back drop is fairly lighted before putting on 
other borders or foots. Then gradually work up reds and ambers 
in foots and borders together until stage is half lit, then gradually 
work on arcs D and E with rose pink mediums — gradually change 
these to ambers. Take off lights F and G behind drop and bring 
up lights A and B on back drop with amber mediums. Finally 
bring up all foots and borders to full amber and white and replace 
blue strips G G G and H with amber. 

All this very gradually and timed to end with music. 

Hand lamps and standard lamps for Act II. Three antique hand 
lanterns with candles — different patterns, to be carried by guests. 
Four lamps with standards, garden lamps. One trick storage bat- 
tery lamp for Borachio. Lamps for dancers. 

kCY\\\.—Scene I. 
Same as Act II. — Morning. 

Lights as left after change. 
No change of lights during act. 

ACT \\\.—Scem 2, 
Same as Act II. — Late afternoon. 

Lights as in Act III, Scene i, but with rose pink mediums on 
arcs, and a httle red in foots and borders. 

CHANGE : 

Beginning with entrance of Don John change back border (behind 



14 



LIGHT PLOTS 



cut drop) and arcs on back drop gradually to full red ; but do 
not change other lights. Foots and borders full up white and 
a little less than half red. 



ACT III Scenes. 

A street.— Midnight. 
(Shallow set.) 



i*^<uti. 




>eM.£ dL»*f^ 



£t/- Kv«««<. 



Blues in foots and borders, full up. 

A spot light with orange medium behind door of set house R., 
arranged to throw a beam across stage as door is opened. 

No change of lights during scene. 

Side props: antique hand lantern for Verges with candle; per- 
forated. 

ACT lY.— Scene i. 



A church. 



it'A c„tL ^^^ 



@: --- 





White and red foots only. 

A Rose pink spot on dimmer and amber. 

B Amber and rose pink on dimmer. 



LIGHT PLOTS 



15 



C Amber spot light. 

^ > Blue tissue and violet on back drop. 

F Strip light, amber, to show through perforations in back drop. 
On rise, foots red and white 1 3 notches. 
D and E on back drop, blue. 

CHANGES : 

As boy with taper comes out and begins to light candles on altar, 
bring up very gradually on dimmer spots A and B from step- 
ladder behind altar, one with rose pink medium, the other 
amber. They are trained to throw a beam three quarters 
across stage, and cover the same field and are supposed to 
represent the light of candles from altar, and should not be 
brought up full till entrance of Friar. As they get about to 
full, steal on amber spot from fly gallery. This is trained on 
same field and is merely to lighten shadows from A and B and 
should blend with their light, not show as separate light. 

X Hanging-lamp over altar, with hghted candle in it — or electric. 

ACT \N,— Scene 2, 

A prison. 
Blue borders. 
Blue and white foots. 
No arcs. 
No change. 
Switch board light trained across stage to strike table R. 

ACT v.— Scene i. 

Set same as Act I. — Evening. 

Lights placed as in Act I, but with rose pink mediums in A and B 

and a little red in foots and borders. 
Other arcs amber. 
No change of hghts during scene. 

ACT V. — Scene 2. 
Monument before Leonato's house. — Just before daybreak. 

(Front Scene.) 




Blue foots and borders with a little white. 



i6 



LIGHT PLOTS 



CHANGE : 

Just about middle of song bring up on dimmer very gradually — 
not full up even at end of scene — spot A witli rose pink me- 
dium trained across stage. It is to represent the first ray of 
the rising sun, and should y«5/ show on the actors. 

I red Romeo and Juliet lantern for Man i, with candle. 



ACT V. —Scene 3. 
Courtyard before Leonato's house. — Morning. 




Foots red full up. 

First border red full up. 

ABC Arcs from fly gallery trained across stage all behind cut 

drop with amber mediums. 
D E Arcs on back drop white, or very pale straw mediums. 
Strips behind balustrade, and behind stairways r. and l., white. 
No change. 



Much Ado About Nothing 



ACT I 

WARN mtisic. 
Scene. — Courtyard before Leonato's House Afiemoon. 

MUSIC 

{Music on rise ; swelling at rise and through opening picture 
to entrance of Leonato; then pp.y to swell again at en- 
trance of Beatrice. Opening picture — Conrade, r., at 
gate up c. pointing off doivn r. as if shoiving others ap- 
proaching party of Don Pedro. Men i, 2 and 3 outside 
gate ; Girl C and Columbine l. of gate ; Boy standing 
before them ; Servant 4 behi?td them. Girl A and Girl B 
071 up- stage corner of portico, L. All are looking off ^. 
through gate. Murmurs of cofiversation and slight move- 
ment from all. Ten seconds after rise, enter 07i portico 
L., Seneschal, with chain and staff, poi?iting out Con- 
rade to Leonato behind him. As he appears, Girl A 
and Girl B go down steps and stand behind Boy, l. of 
gate, a?id Conrade turns toward portico. Seneschal 
goes down steps and L. c.) 

Enter Leonato, followed by Antonio, on porch l. Conrade 
comes c. Men i, 2 and 3 crowd up into gate to hear, 

. MUSIC dim, to pp» 

Leon, (advances to front of portico, consulting letter). I 
learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night 
to Messina. 

Con. (c). He is very near by this {going toward gate c, 
and pointing off)-, he was not three leagues off when I left 
him. 

17 



1 8 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

(Leon., followed by Ant., comes down steps of porch. Sene- 
schal motions to Men i, 2 mid 3 in gate c, and they move 
outside gate and to l. Con. precedes Leon, ajid Ant. to 
gate C, and points off r. They stand looking off.^ 

MUSIC swells. 

Enter on portico l., Beatrice and Hero together (Beat, up- 
stage), followed by Ursula and Margaret. They stand 
grouped on platform. 

MUSIC dim* and dies away* 

(Leon., l., and Con., r., come down stage to c. together. 
Ant. goes to Seneschal, up l. c, a?id gives instructions.) 

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action ? 

Con. But few of any sort, and none of name. 

Leon. (c). A victory is twice itself when the achiever 
brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath 
bestowed much honor on a young Florentine called Claudio. 

Con. (c). Much deserved on his part, and equally remem- 
bered by Don Pedro : he hath borne himself beyond the promise 
of ills age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion. 

Beat, {coming down steps to L. c). 1 pray you, is Signior 
Mountanto returned from the wars or no? 

Con. I know none of that name, lady : there was none 
such in the army of any sort. 

Leon. (c). What is he that you ask for, niece? 

Hero (^coming down steps to Beat., and putting her arm 
about her). My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. 

(Marg. and Urs. advance a little on platform to dress stage.) 

Con. O, he'' s returned ; and as pleasant as ever he was. 

Beat. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in 
these wars ? But how many hath he killed ? for indeed, I 
promised to eat all of his killing. 

Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much ; 
but he'll be meet with you ; I doubt it not. 

Con. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. 

Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath help to eat it % 
he is a very valiant trencher-man ; he hath an excellent stomach. 

Con. And a good soldier too, lady. 

Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ; but what is he to a 
lord ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 1 9 

Con. a lord to a lord, a man to a man ; — stuffed with all 
honourable virtues. 

Beat. It is so, indeed ; he is no less than a stuffed man ; but 
for the stuffing, — well, we are all mortal. 

(Hero puts her hand playfully over Beat.'s mouth to stop her 

prattle.') 

• 

Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a 
kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her : they 
never meet but there's a skirmish of wit between them. 

Beat. Alas ! he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict 
four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man 
governed with one : so that if he have wit enough to keep him- 
self warm (crossing, with a gesture of mockery, to R. and lean- 
ing against table R.), let him bear it for a difference between 
himself and his horse. (Hero goes to Leon., c, who takes 
her hand affectionately.) Who is his companion now? He 
hath every month a new sworn- brother. 

Con. Is it possible ? 

Beat. Very easily possible : he wears his faith but as the 
fashion of his hat ; it ever changes with the next block. 

Con. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. 

Beat. No ! An he were, I would burn my study ! But, 
I pray you, who is his companion ? Is there no young squarer 
now that will make a voyage with him to the devil ? 

Con. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. 

Beat. O Lord ! He will hang upon him like a disease ! 
He is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs 
presently mad. Heaven help the noble Claudio ! If he have 
caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pounds ere he 
be cured. 

Con. {with a smiling bow). I will hold friends with you, 
lady. 

Beat, [crossing c, and as she passes him, holds out her 
left hand to Con, cordially, and as he retains it she turns). 
Do, good friend. 

(Con. bows over Beat.'s hand. When he releases it Beat. 
goes to down- stage end of steps l., where she is joined by 
Hero.) 

Leon. You will never run mad, niece. 

READY mttsic^ 



20 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Beat. No, not till a hot January. 

TRUMPET off R. 

(Music begins pp. J and swells to Don Pedro's entrance.) 

Con. Don Pedro is approached. 

(^(roes to gate up c, and then exit, R., as if to meet Don P. 
As Con. exits r., Men i, 2 a?id 2, follow him, and exit, 
R., and when off, get ifi rear of 'Do'nV.^S procession. 
Boy, Girl A, Girl B and Girl C, Servant 4 and Col- 
umbine ru?i through gate up c, and group behind it to ^ 
see approaching procession. Marg. andX^w^. comedown 
steps L., and get behind '^'E.n^'SCB.al and stand i.. of gate. 
Beat, and Hero go up steps l. on to porch and look off 
R. Leon, goes l., standing ifi front of steps \.. Ant. 
joins him there. Trumpet nearer. Music swells. Sen- 
eschal goes to gate c, and waves back group in gateway. 
They withdraw upstage to be out of ivay of procession, 
and yet keep ifi sight. Exit Seneschal, r., to meet pro- 
cession, and almost immediately reenter, bowing back- 
wards, and stands, bowifig, Just L. of gate c. Music ff.) 

Enter Don P. frojn r., and through gate c. ; followed by 
Don John, l., and Claudio, r. ; followed by Con., l., 
and Benedick, r. ; folloived by Borachio — all in full 
armour. Enter, following the procession, but remaining 
outside gate c. Choir Man X, Choir Man Y and Choir 
Man Z, in partial armour with standards, etc. ; followed 
by Man i, Man 2 a?id Man 3, with various warlike im- 
pediments. All these stand behind gate, where those al- 
ready outside Join them in a dense group. 

(After BoR. has passed the gate, Seneschal goes outside gate 
and shuts it from outside, to keep followers out. After a 
speech or two of the following dialogue those outside the 
gate, in response to directions from Seneschal, go off 
gradually, by twos and threes, followed at last by Sen- 
eschal off R. u. E. These exits are made gradually 
and quietly so as not to distract attention from the dia- 
logue. Ashe enters, Don P. comes c, where Ij^ot^. 
meets him. Hero advances to l. c. Ant. ^7«^Beat., 
after bowing to Don P., go behind him to up c, inhere 
they meet Don J. and Claud., to whom Ant. presents 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 21 

Beat. Ben. goes down r. to left of table. Bor. goes up 
L. to Urs., and they converse. Con, goes up r. ; Marg. 
crosses R. ajid meets him, and they converse. After pro- 
cession has entered music dim., and dies away.) 

STOP music 

Don p. (meeting Leon, up c, taking his hand and coming 
sloivly down c, speaking as they come down). Good Signior 
Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble : the fashion of 
the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. 

Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of 
your Grace : for trouble being gone, comfort should remain ; 
but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness 
takes his leave. 

Don p. (c). You embrace your charge too willingly. 
{Crosses Leon., l., and takes IIero^s hand L. c.) I think 
this is your daughter. 

Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. 

Ben. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? 

Leon, (turning to Ben., down r. q., and giving him both 
hands, old-man fashion). Signior Benedick, no ; for then 
were _y^/^ a child. {Returns Q,. General slight laugh.) 

Don p. You have it full, Benedick : we may guess by this 
what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers herself. 
Be happy, lady; for you are like an honourable father. 

Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have 
his head {making a gesture to indicate Leon.'s beard) on her 
shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. 

(^General slight laugh and movement. Don P. «;?^Leon. go 
L. c, conversing. Hero joins Don J., Claud, and Ai^t., 
and group works up c, turning away from Ben, and 
Beat. Don J. keeps a little apart from group on its r. 
Ben. goes to chair r. of table, and puts foot on it to fix 
spur. Beat, is thus left alone up c. She stands c , 
looking, with a playfully malicious smile, for a moment at 
Ben, , ivho has his back turned, and then she comes down 
behind table r.) 

Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Ben- 
edick : nobody marks you. 

Ben. {turning in mock surprise, and bowing very low). 
What ! My dear Lady Disdain ! are you yet living? 



22 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Beat, (^going c). Is it possible disdain should die while 
she hath such meet food to feed it, as (niaking a?t exaggerated 
courtesy) Signior Benedick ? 

Ben. (cotni?ig to her c). It is certain that I am loved of all 
ladies, only you excepted : and I would 1 could find in my heart 
that I had not a hard heart ; for, truly, J love none. 

Beat. A dear happiness to women : they would else have 
been troubled with a pernicious suitor. {^Goes a little l., and 
then turns.) I thank Heaven and my cold blood, I am of your 
humour for that : I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow 
than a man swear he loves me. 

Ben. Heaven keep your ladyship still in that mind ! so 
some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched 
face. 

Beat. Scratching could not make it worse an {with a ges- 
ture mimicking Ben.'s gesture about Leon.'s beard, but really 
referring to Ben.'s own beard, which he has evidently grown 
sifice she saw hifn last ) ' twere such a face as yours were. 

Ben. {tur fling away piqued, with an ifivoluntary hand to 
his chin ; and then turnitig to her again). I would my horse 
had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. (She 
starts to reply, but he checks her with a gesture, and turns 
away.) But keep your way, o' Heaven's name; I have done. 

(Goes R. around table as if to rejoin the others.) 

Beat, (calling after him). You always end with a jade's 
trick : I know you of old. 

(Ben. pauses half angrily, as if to reply, and then with a ges- 
ture to signify that he gives up the contest, goes up c. and 
joins the group there. Beat, watches him up, and then 
smiling triumphantly to herself goes L. C.) 

Don p. (coming down c, arm in arm with Leon., who is 
on his right). That is the sum of all, Leonato. (Calls back.) 
Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick (Claud, comes down 
to R. of Leon. Ben. comes down on r. of Claud. Hero 
joins Beat., down l. Don J. comes down on r. of table, r.), 
my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we 
shall stay here at the least a month ; and he heartily prays some 
occasion may detain us longer. 1 dare swear he is no hypo- 
crite, but prays from his heart. 

Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. 



MUCH' ADO ABOUT NOTHING 23 

{To Don J.) Let me bid you welcome, my lord : being rec- 
onciled to the prince your brother, 1 owe you all duty. 

Don J. I thank you : I am not of many words, but I thank 
you. [Turns away up r., and works over c.) 

Leon. Please it your Grace lead on ? 

Don p. Your hand, Leonato ; we will go together. 

(General exit, except Ben. and Claud., up steps and into 
house L., Leon, and Don P. together. By rank Don J. 
should follow, but he bows to ^^kt. t?W Hero, and they 
precede him and exit ifito house L. Exit Don J. into 
house L. Exit Ma kg. afid Con. up steps r. and exit 
into garden. Exit Urs. and Bor. into house l. BilN. 
crosses and meets Ant. l. c, and they go up steps l., as 
if to exit, Claud, crosses r. to l. of table down r., 
and facing away from house, begins pensively to trace pat- 
terns 071 the table top with his finger. Exit Ant. into house 
l. As Ben. reaches door of house on platform l., he turns 
and sees Claud., looks at him quizzically for a momefit, 
and then quietly steals down and claps him on both shoul- 
ders from behind to wake him from his day-dream.) 

Claud, {starts ; turns and sees Ben., a?id, seizing both 
,Ben.'s hands). Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of 
Signior Leonato? 

Ben. (withdraws his hands from Claud.* s pointedly, as if 
the subject were a suspicious o?te, and steps back: and then). 
I noted her not ; but I looked on her. 

Claud, (crossing Ben. l. toward house to c). Is she not 
a modest young lady ? 

Ben. (l. c, looking after him, with a quizzical pause). Do 
you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple 
true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, 
as being a professed tyrant to their sex? 

Claud, (c, turning, ivith a gesture of boyish appeal). No; 
I pray thee speak in sober judgment. 

Ben. (lazily crossing and sitting in seat down l. during 
speech, facifig l. away from Claud.). Why, i' faith, me- 
tliinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair 
praise, and too little for a great praise : only this commenda- 
tion I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were 
unhandsome ; and being no other but as she is — I do not like 
her. 

Claud, [comiftg doiun l. behind Ben., and putting his hands 



24 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

on Ben.'s shoulders confidentially). Thou thinkest I am in 
sport : 1 pray thee tell me truly how thou likest her. 

Ben. (sitting up sharply). Would you buy her, that you 
inquire after her ? 

Claud, ingoing c. ). Can the world buy such a jewel ? 

Ben. {turning in seat, in wonder, toward Claud. : then^. 
Yea, and a case to put it into ! But speak you this with a sad 
brow? or do you play the flouting Jack ? {Rising arid going 
to Claud., c.) Come, in what key shall a man take you, to 
go in the song ? 

Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I 
looked on. 

Ben. {looking after Hero, and then turning). I can see 
yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her 
cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as 
much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December. 
But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you ? 

Claud. I would scarce trust myself, thaugh I had sworn 
the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 

{Goes to L. of table r., turning from Ben.) 

Ben. (c). Is't come to this, in faith ? Hath not the world 
one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion ? Shall I " 
never see a bachelor of threescore again? {Crossing Claud. 
and going to r. of table R.) Go to i' faith ; an thou wilt needs 
thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away 
Sundays. {Turns and sees Don P. coming from house L.) 
Look ; Don Pedro is returned to seek you. 

Enter Don P. on porch l. 

Don p. {on porch l.). What secret hath held you here, 
that you followed not to Leonato's ? 

(Claud, goes c, snaking gesture of silence to Ben.) 

Ben. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. 
Don P. I charge thee on thy allegiance. {Comes down steps i..) 
Ben. You hear, Count Claudio : I can be secret as a dumb 
man ; but, on my allegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance f 
(Claud, dashes at Ben., r, c. , a/id struggles with him, play- 
fully, boyishly, to prevent hifn from speaking. Ben. shouting 
to Don p. in a stage whisper over Claud. 's head.) He is in 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 25 

love. With who ? (Now that is your Grace's part.) Mark how 
short his answer is ; — With Hero, Leonato's short daughter. 

Claud, {giving up, a?id turning c). If this were so, so 
were it uttered. 

Ben. Like the old tale, my lord : " It is not so, nor 'twas 
not so, but indeed Heaven forbid it should be so." 
^ Claud. If my passion change not shortly, Heaven forbid 
it should be otherwise. 

Don p. {cross i?ig to Claud., c, a7id putting both hands on 
his shoulders, affectionately). Amen, if you love her; for the 
lady is very well worthy. 

Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. 

Don p. By my troth, I speak my thought. 

Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. 

Ben. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke 
mine. 

Claud. That I love her, I feel. 

Don p. That she is worthy, I know. 

Ben. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor 
know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot 
melt out of me : I will die in it at the stake. 

Don p. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite 
of beauty. 

Ben. {crossifig l. on this speech to seat down l.). That a 
woman conceived me, I thank her ; that she brought me up, 1 
likewise give her most humble thanks : but that I will have a 
recheat winded in my forehead, all women shall pardon me. 
Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do 
myself the right to trust none ; and the fine is,— for the which 
I may go the finer, — (sinking in seat down l. and stretching 
his legs out lazily) 1 will live a bachelor. 

(Claud, goes to table r. a?id leans on chair behind it.) 

Don p. (going to table r. and sitting on it). I shall see 
thee, ere I die, look pale with love. 

Ben. (rising in indignant, scornful protest). With anger, 
with sickness, or with hunger, my lord ; not with love ! Prove 
that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with 
drinking,— pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and 
hang me up at the door of a wine-house for the sign of blind 
Cupid. 

Don p. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou 
wilt prove a notable argument. 



26 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Ben. If 1 do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot 
at ine, 

Don p. Well, as time shall try : {Sings mockingly.^ '<In 
time the savage bull doth bear the yoke." 

Ben. {working toward z. during speech). The savage bull 
may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the 
bull's horns, and set them in my forehead : and let me be 
vilely painted ; and in such great letters as they write ''Here 
is good horse to hire," let them signify under my sign <'Here 
you may see Benedick the married man." 

Don p. {rising and going c). Well, you will temporize 
with the hours. In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, re- 
pair to Leonato : commend me to him, and tell him I will not 
fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made great preparation. 

Ben. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embas- 
sage ; {goes lip steps to house l.) " and so I commit you " 

Claud. ''To the tuition of Heaven: From my house," 
(if I had it) 

Don p. "The sixth of July : Your loving friend, Bene- 
dick." 

Ben. {turning on platform). Nay, mock not, mock not. 
Ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience : 
and so I leave you. 

Exit into house l. 

Clauix. {going to Don P.). My liege, your highness now 
may do me good : 

Don p. (c). My love is thine to teach : teach it but how, 
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn 
Any hard lesson that may do thee good. 

Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord? 

Don p. No child but Hero; she's his only heir. — ^ 
Dost thou affect her, Claudio ? 

Claud. O, my lord 

When you went onward on this ended action, 
I looked upon her with a soldier's eye, 
That liked, but had a rougher task in hand 
Than to drive liking to the name of love : 
But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts 
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
Come thronging soft and delicate desires. 
All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 
Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars, — 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 27 

Don p. {interrupting hi77i, half mockingly). Thou wilt be 
like a lover presently, 
And tire the hearer with a book of words. 

(Claud., abashed^ turns r. and goes to table down r. Don P. 
looks at hi?n for a moment, a?id then comes behind him 
and takes him by the shoulders affectionately.) 

If those dost love fair Hero, cherish it ; 

WARN curtain- 

And I will break with her and with her father, 
And thou shalt have her. Was 't not to this end 
That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? 

{Twists Claud, round.) 

Claud, {turning and seizi?ig Don P.'s hands, and swinging 
around him in front of him so that he is l. of Don P, 
During this speech he gradually drazvs Don P. c). 
How sweetly you do minister to love. 
That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
I would have salved it with a longer treatise. 

Don p. What need the bridge much broader than the flood ? 
Look, what will serve is fit : 'tis once, thou lovest. 
And I will fit thee with the remedy. 
I know we shall have revelling to-night : 
I will assume thy part, in some disguise, 
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ; 
And in her bosom Pll unclasp my heart, 
And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
And strong encounter of my amorous tale : 
Then, after, to her father will I break ; 
And the conclusion is,— she shall be thine ! 



CURTAIN 



28 • MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 



ACT II. 

WARN music* 
Scene. — Leonato's garden. — Evening. 

MUSIC 

{Music for curtain — a few bars o?ily which stop as soon as 
curtain is up. After a momenf s pause a faint burst of 
singing from off l,, as if from house, and a ripple of 
laughter — both very faint and distant, and dying away 
after a few seconds.^ 

Enter down the stairs from terrace tip l., Don J. On the 
stairs he turns back toward the merrymakers, off, with a 
shrug of bored, sour disgust, and comes down C, slowly, 
in meditation. As Don J. reaches c, enter, from ter- 
race up L., as if following him, Con. 

Con. What the good- year, ray lord ! why are you thus out 
of measure sad? You should hear reason. 

Don J. {going r., and seati?ig himself gloomily on bench by 
arbor, r.). And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it ? 

Con. (c). If not a present remedy, at least a patient suf- 
ferance. 

Don J. I cannot hide what I am. {Rising impatiently and 
crossifig L., to round seat down L.) I must be sad when I have 
cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, 
and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and 
tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and 
claw no man in his humor. 

{Seats himself on round bench down L.) 

Con. {moving down l. c). Yea, but you must not make 
the full show of this till you may do it without controlment. 
You have 'til late stood out against your brother, and he hath 
ta'en you newly into his grace ; where it is impossible you 
should take true root but by the fair weather that you make 
yourself. 

Don J. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 29 

his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than 
to fashion a carriage to rob love from any. {Sprittging up and 
going c.) I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a 
clog ; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I 
had my mouth, I would bite ; if I had my liberty, I would do 
my liking: in the meantime, let me be what I am, and seek 
not to alter me. 

{Crosses Con., r., as if to enter arbor r.) 

Con. {coming down l.). Can you make no use of your 
discontent ? 

Don J. {stopping and turning at entrance to arbor to an- 
swer). 1 make all use of it, for I use it only. {Sees Bor. off 
up steps i..^ Who comes here? (Enter Bor., down steps 
L. u. E.) What news, Borachio ? 

Bor. {comi?ig down c). I came yonder from the supper: 
and 1 can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. 

Don J. {going toward Bor., c). Will it serve for any 
model to build mischief on ? What is he for a fool that be- 
troths himself to unquietness ? 

Bor. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. 

Don J. Who ? the most exquisite Claudio ? 

Bor. Even he. 

Don J. A proper squire! {Turns r., as if to go into 
arbor, and then checking himself.) Which way looks he? 

Bor. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. 

Don J. A very forward March -chick ! {Sits on bench by 
arbor r.) How came you to this? 

Bor. (r. c). As I was smoking a musty room, comes to 
me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference : I 
whipt me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed upon, 
that the prince should woo Hero for himself, and having ob- 
tained her, give her to Count Claudio. 

Don J. Come, this may prove food to my displeasure. 
{Rises a?id goes c. between Bor. and Con. They both ap 
proach c. ) That young start-up hath all the glory of my over- 
throw : if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way. 
You are both sure, and will assist me ? 

Con. To the death, my lord. 

(Beat, and Hero heard laughing off, l. u. e. Don J. makes 

gesture of silence. ) 



30 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Exit Don J. into arbor and off r. Exit Bor. and Con., 

following him. 

(^Laughter from Beat, and Hero 7iearer,) 

KntGT down steps l. u. e., Beat, dragging 'Leo'^. by her right 
hand and Ant. by her left. Ail are laughing. They are 
closely folloived by Hero who is pushing Ant., and the 
old men are hangiftg back, as if Beat, were dragging 
them into some tomboy prank, 

Leon, {up c, utter i?ig the line as if an excuse for checking 
BEkT.'s fooling). Was not that Count John? 

(Beat, immediately becomes exaggeratedly proper and goes 
down R. to look cfter Don J.) 

Ant. {up L.). I saw him not. 

Beat, {glancing off r. through opening ifi arbor, and with 
a little shudder ifig grimace to indicate Don ].'s sourness). 
How tartly the gentleman looks ! 1 never can see him but I 
am heart-burned an hour after. 

Hero {going to round seat down l. c, and sitting, back to 
audience, looking after Don J.). He is of a very melancholy 
disposition. 

Beat. (c). He were an excellent man that were made just 
in the midway between him and Benedick : the one is too like 
an image and says nothing, and the other too like my lady's 
eldest son, evermore tattling. 

{k^-i. goes L. c.) 

Leon, {coming down toward bench by arbor r.). Then 
half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and 
half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face 

Beat. (c). With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and 
money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman 
in the world — if he could get her good-will. 

Leon, {sitting on bench by arbor r.). By my troth, niece, 
ihou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy 
tongue. 

Beat. For the which blessing I am upon my knees every 
morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband 
with a beard on his face : I had rather lie in the woolen. 

Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard. 



MUCH- ADO ABOUT NOTHING 31 

Beat. What should I do with him ? Dress him in my ap- 
parel, and make him my waiting gentlewoman ? He that hath 
a beard is more than a youth ; and he that hath no beard is less 
than a man : and he that is more than a youth is not for me ; 
and he that is less than a man, — I am not for him. 

{Goes up c, as if to look off steps up L.) 

' Ant. {coming to Hero at round seat down L. c). Well, 
niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father. 

Beat, {up c, turning). Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty 
to make courtesy, and say {ivith a deep courtesy to Leon.), 
" P'ather, as it please you." But yet for all that, cousin, let 
him be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and 
say {turning her back pointedly to Leon, and sweeping away 
from him'), "Father, as it please me." 

Leon, {laughingly). Well, niece, I hope to see you one day 
fitted with a husband. 

Beat. (c). Not till God make men of some other metal 
than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered 
with a piece of valiant dust ? to make an account of her life to 
a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons 
are my brethren ; and, truly, 1 hold it a sin to match in my 
kindred. {Goes up l. c.) 

Ant. Niece, remember that I told you. 

Beat, {coming down c, and teasingly to Hero). The fault 
will be in the music, cousin, if ^^^^ be not wooed in good time. 

READY music- 

(Hero springs up and dashes at Beat., c, to stop her mouth. 
Beat, runs down and dodges around in front of round seat 
down L. C. to fountaifi l., where she holds Hero off by threat- 
ening to dash her with water. Hero stands c, clutching her 
skirts around her.) If the wooer be too importunate, tell him 
there is a measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. 
{With a gesture of despair^ Hero crosses to Leon., on bench 
R., and standing behind him stops his ears agai?ist Beat.'s 
prattle. Beat, comes c.) For, hear me. Hero: wooing, wed- 
ding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque- 
pace; the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full 
as fantastical ; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, 
full of state and ancientry ; and then comes repentance, and, 
with his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, 
till he sink into his grave. 



32 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

{During this speech Beat, works down from c. to R. before 
down- stage entrafice to arbor. ^ 

Leon, {rising and going q.., acco77ipanied by 1^'sm.o). Cousin, 
you apprehend passing shrewdly. 

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle ; {with finger to eye and 
slight wink) I can see a church by daylight. 

MUSIC 

{Distant music of dance ^ and laughter of approaching dancers 

heard off I., u. E.) 

Leon. The revellers are entering. 

(Leon., Ant. and Hero go up l. toward l. u. e. to watch 
approach of revellers. Beat, goes into arbor and ktieels 
on seat there , looking out throtigh opening L. Music 
swells.') 

Enter from l. u. e. , down steps, cloaked and masked, Claud, 
afid Ben., who join Leon., Ant. and Hero up c. As 
other revellers enter, Beat, goes up through arbor and 
joins this group. Music swells. 

Enter /// pairs, from l. u. e., down steps, (i) Harlequin 
and Columbine; (2) Balthasar and Marg. ; (3) Man i 
and Girl A; (4) Man 2 ajid Girl B; (5) Man 3 and 
Girl C ; (6) Don P. and Urs. 

{The men have cloaks and masks, and each pair carries a 
standard with two lanterns hanging frotn it. The pro- 
cession dancing, comes down c, then turns r. into down- 
stage entrance to arbor, and off through arbor r. As 
Don p. and Urs. reach foot of steps l. u. e., they fall 
out of procession, and join 'Leo'N. ^ s gro?ip. As last pair 
in procession (Man 3 and Girl C) gets about to bench by 
arbor, Don P. leads Hero down c. , speaking through the 
music, which grows dim. with exit of dancers.) 

Don P. {coming down c). Lady, will you walk about with 
your friend ? 

Hero {coming down c). So you walk softly, and look 
sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk ^ and espe- 
cially {releasing her hand playfully, and turning R. as if to 
follow dancers) when I walk away. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 33 

Don p. (^pursuing and catching her R. c, drawing her arm 
through his and leading her l.). With me in your company? 

{^During the following lineSy they work slowly l., going in 
front of round seat down l. c.) 

Hero. I may say so, when I please. 

Don p. And when please you to say so ? 

Hero. When 1 like your favor ; {seating herself ^ playfully^ 
on round seat down l. c. , as if to go no further^ for Heaven 
defend the lute should be like the case ! 

Don p. My visor is Philemon's roof; {drawing her up 
again') within the house is Jove. 

Hero. Why, then, your visor should be thatched. 

Don p. Speak low if you speak love. 

Exeunt Hero and Don P. up steps l. i e. 

{A burst of laughter from group up c, and Urs. drags Ant., 
protesting, down C, and off through arbor r. to join 
dancers. Claud, and Leon., applauding, go through up- 
stage entrance to arbor afid follow them off R.) 

MUSIC dim. and stops. 

Beat, {leaving Ben. angrily, as if stung by some remark 
of his, coming down, and turning toward front entrance to 
arbor r., ^^ if to exit, then, pausing). Will you not tell me 
who told you so ? 

Ben. {smiling and strolling nonchalantly down toward 
round seat, down L. c, as if pleased with the success of his 
shot). No, you shall pardon me. 

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? 

Ben. \seating himself lazily on seat). Not now. 

Beat. That I was " disdainful," and that " I had my good 
wit " out of the '' Hundred Merry Tales " ; — {crossing quickly 
to c, above him, and with sparkling maliciousness) well, this 
was Signior Benedick that said so. 

Ben. {sitting up). What's he? 

Beat. I am sure you know him well enough. 

Ben. Not I, believe me. 

READY music. 

Beat. Did he never make you laugh ? 

Ben. {pleased at this attribution of wit). I pray you, what 
is he ? 



34 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Beat, {coming doiun behind him and stabbing him mer?'ily 
with every word'). Why, he is the prince's jester : a very dull 
fool ; his only gift is in devising impossible slanders : none but 
libertines delight in him ; and the commendation is not in his 
wit, but in his villainy ; for he both pleases men and angers 
them, and then they laugh at him and — beat him. 

Ben. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you 
say. 

{Rising, stungy as if to go off l. u. e., but pausing as Beat. 

answers.) 

MUSIC 

{Music of reentering dancers heard pp. off r., a fid swells till 
entrance of dancers.) 

Beat, {coming down c, eagerly). Do, do : he'll but break 
a comparison or two on me ; which, peradventure not marked 
or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then 
there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper 
that* night. (Seeing that her taunt has annoyed Ben., afid de- 
termined to tease him further, holds out her hand to compel 
him to take her as a partner in the dance, music of which is 
heard approaching off r.) We must follow the leaders. 

(Ben. cannot in politeness refuse her as a partner, and with 
dismayed reluctance takes her hand, arid exit with her 
through front entrance of arbor and off r.) 

{A moment after exit of Ben. and Beat., during which music 
swells, enter Dancers /r^;w r. u. e., behind arbor, in 
same order and pairs as before : (i) Harlequin a7id 
Columbine; (2) Balth. a?id Marg. ; (3) Man i and 
Girl A ; (4) Man 2 and Girl B ; (5) Man 3 and Girl C ; 
(6) Ant. and Urs; (7) Ben. and Beat.) 

DANCE 

(Harlequin and Columbine lead the procession — all to dance 
steps — back up c. nearly to cut drop, theti ttirn and come 
down c. ; then turn l. and going around round seat down 
l, cross stage r., and enter arbor, through front entrance. 
Meantime the various couples drop off atid form sets for 
the figure as folloivs : As procession turns down c, the 
last two couples — Ant. and Urs., Ben. and Beat. — drop 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 35 

offy aiid form set up c. As procession turns at l. c. 
Man 2-Girl B and Man 3-G1RL C drop off and form 
set L. c. Before efitrance to arbor, Balth.-Marg. a7id 
Man i-Girl A form set down r. c. Harlequin and 
Columbine contijiue through arbor and join set up c, 
who dance figure around them ; then go to set L. c, same 
business ; then go to set down R. c, sajue business. Har= 
LEQUIN and Columbine then go through arbor, and as 
they enter it, the down R. set follows, tlie l. set crosses 
and follows, the up c. set comes down and follows, thus 
reforming procession in, same order as entrajice.^ 

Exit Harlequin and Columbine, leading this procession 
through arbor and off l. u. e. up steps. Music pp. 

Enter during dance from r. u. e., behind arbor, Leon. a7id 
Claud., and stand up r. c. watching. Enter on steps 
l. u. e., Seneschal, Boy and Servant 4, and stand. 
During dance Leon, and Claud, cross l. to steps l. u. e., 
going belli fid up- stage set of dancers, andl^EON. gives direc- 
tions to Seneschal. Before e?id of dance exit up steps 
l. u. e., Leon., /(?//<i'Z£/^^ ^jj/ Seneschal, Boy ^;/^/ Serv= 
ANT 4. As last dancers exit, Claud., who has been left 
alone up la. c, comes dow/i l., afid lea?is over fountain 
basin turned from arbor. As last dancers exit, enter 
Don J. and BoR. into arbor from r. 2 e. A pause. ~) 

MUSIC dies away* 

Don J. {coming through doivn-stage entra?ice to arbor, look- 
ing off after dancers, andtoBoR., who follows him). Sure 
my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father 
to break with him about it. {Seeing Claud.) But one visor 
remains. 

BOR. (down r.). And that is Claudio : I know him by his 
bearing. 

Don J. (r. c, after a significant glance at Bor., and going 
c. as he speaks). Are not you Signior Benedick ? 

Claud, (masking and tur?iing with a smile at the success 
of his disguise, afid advancing i.. c). You know me well; I 
am he. 

Don J. (going to Claud., l. c, and confidentially'). Sig- 
nior, you are very near my brother in his love ; he is enamored 



36 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

on Hero ; I pray you, dissuade him from her : she is no equal 
for his birth : you may do the part of an honest man in it, 

Claud. How know you he loves her? 

Don J. I heard him swear his affection. 

BoR. {advancing^. So did I, too; and he swore he would 
marry her. 

(Claud., unabie to hide his emotions ^ crosses rapidly r. to en- 
trance to arbor ^ as if to exit, but halts at entrance.) 

Don J. (after a pause, and a significant glance at Claud. 
and'QoK.). Come, let us to the banquet. 

Exeunt Don J. and'Eo'R., l. u. e,, upstairs. 

Claud, {at entrance to arbor). Thus answer I in name of 
Benedick, 
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. 

(Sinks 071 bench beside arbor. A mometif s pause.) 

'Tis certain so ; the prince woos for himself. 
Friendship is constant in all other things 
Save in the office and affairs of love : 

{Rising and going c, and with a glance offi..) 

Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongue ; 

Let every eye negotiate for itself. 

And trust no agent ; for beauty is a witch, 

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 

This is an accident of hourly proof. 

Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero ! 

{Hears Ben. approachifig l. u. e., masks and crosses R., as 
if to exit into arbor.) 

Reenter Ben., unmasked, down-stairs l. u. e. 

Ben. Count Claudio? 

Claud, {stopping a7id turning). Yea, the same. 

Ben. (coining dowft, taking Claud, by left arm, and draW' 
ing him a little c). Come, will you go with me? 

Claud, (c). Whither? 

Ben. (c). Even to the next willow, about your own busi- 
ness, county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? 
about your neck, like an usurer's chain ? or under your arm, 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 3/ 

like a lieutenant's scarf? (Claud, breaks away and crosses in 
fro7it of Ben. angrily to fountain l.) You must wear it one 
way, for the prince hath got your Hero. 

Claud. I wish him joy of her. 

Ben. {crossi?ig l. to behind Claud., at fountain^. Why, 
that's spoken like an honest drovier ; so they sell bullocks. 
But did you think the prince would have served you thus ? 

Claud. I pray you, leave me. 

Ben. Ho ! now you strike like the blind man ; 'twas the 
boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. 

Claud. If it will not be, I'll X^dM^ you. 

Exit Claud., up-stairs down l. 

Ben. Alas, poor hurt fowl ! now will he creep into sedges. 
{^A pause. Goes meditatively and sits on round bench down l.) 
But, that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me ! 
The prince's fool ! Ha? It may be I go under that title be- 
cause I am merry. {Pause. ^ Yea, but so I am apt to do my- 
self wrong. {Rising and going R. c.) I am not so reputed : 
it is the base, the bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the 
world into her person, and so gives me out. {Pause : then 
turning at r. as if to exit l.) Well, I'll be revenged as I 
may. 

Reenter Don P. from steps up l. u. e. 

Don p. (coming down c. and meeting Ben. c). Now, sig- 
nior, where's the count? did you see him? 

Ben. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. 
I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren : I told 
him, and 1 think I told him true, that your Grace had got the 
good will of his young lady \ and I offered him my company 
to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being for- 
saken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. 

Don p. To be whipped ! What's his fault? 

Ben. The flat transgression of a schoolboy, who, being 
overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it to his companion, 
and he steals it. 

Don p. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? The 
transgression is in the stealer. 

Ben. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, 
and the garland too ; for the garland he might have worn him- 
self, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I 
take it, have stolen his bird's nest. 



38 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Don p. (crossing Ben., r., and sitting on arbor bench R.). 
I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. 

Ben, If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you 
say honestly. 

{Strolls over toward fountain L.) 

Don p. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you : (Ben. 
turns sharply) the gentleman that danced with her told her she 
is much wronged by you. 

Ben. {coming c). O, she misused me past the endurance 
of a block ! an oak but with one green leaf on it would have an- 
swered her ; my very visor began to assume life and scold with 
her. {Takes an angry turn up c, and then dowii again.^ 
She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the 
prince's jester, that I was duller than a great thaw ; huddling 
jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance, upon me, that 
I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting 
at me. {Goes to round bench dow?t l. a?id sitsS) She speaks 
poniards, and every word stabs. {Starting up again, and 
pacing up and down angrily?) I would not marry her, though 
she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he 
transgressed. I would to Heaven some scholar would conjure 
her ; for certainly while she is here, a man may live as quiet in 
hell as in a sanctuary ; and people sin upon purpose, because 
they would go thither ; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and 
perturbation follows her. {Down c.) 

(Beat, heard laughing off L. i E.) 

Don p. {looking off L. i e.). Look, here she comes. 

(Ben., as if to hide, crosses rapidly r. toward arbor. As he 
passes, Don P. springs up, catches his left arm and de- 
tains him.) 

Ben. Will your Grace command me any service to the 
world's end? (Don P. drags him c.) I will go on the slight- 
est errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me 
on ; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of 
Asia ; bring you the length of Prester John's foot ; fetch you 
a hair off the great Cham's beard ; do you any embassage to 
the Pigmies; rather than hold three words' conference with this 
harpy. You have no employment for me ? 

Don p. None, but to desire your good company. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 39 

Ben. O Lord, §ir, here's a dish I love not {breaks away 
from Don P.) : 1 cannot endure my Lady Tongue. 

Exit hastily into arbor and off r. 

Enter Beat, with Claud, on her left arm doivn staircase 
L. I E. She goes l. c. Claud, stands l. of round bench 
down L. 

Don p. (r. c). Come, lady, come; you have lost the 
heart of Signior Benedick. (Beat, shrugs her shoulders. 
Don p. turns to Claud.) Why, how now, count ! wherefore 
are you sad ? 

Claud, (^going up l. c. toward Beat.). Not sad, my lord. 

Don p. How then ? sick ? 

Claud. Neither, my lord. 

Beat. (c). The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, 
nor well ; but civil count, civil as an orange, and something of 
that jealous complexion. 

Don p. 1' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; 
though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. (Enter 
down steps l. i e., Leon., leadifig Hero, on his left. They 
stop down L.) Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and 
fair Hero is won : I have broke with her father, and his good 
will obtained : name the day of marriage, and God give thee 
joy! 

Leon. (l. , handing Hero across toward Claud. , c). Count, 
take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes : his Grace 
hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it. 

(Claud, comes to l. c. and meets Hero, who has moved a step 
to meet him^ and taking her hands ^ he gazes at her in 
silence.) 

Beat, {tip c). Speak, count, 'tis your cue. 

Claud, (l. c. ). Silence is the perfectest herald of joy : I 
were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you 
are mine, I am yours : I give away myself for you, and dote 
upon the exchange. 

{Another silence.) 

Beat. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth 
with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. 



40 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

(Hero makes a little shame-faced gesture^of protest against 
Beat.'s foolitjg; and Claud, leads her r. to betich by 
arbor where they sit, ) 

Don p. (^goi?ig up l. toward Beat.). In faith, lady, you 
have a merry heart. 

Beat, {coming l. c). Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, 
it keeps on the windy side of care. {Points to the lovers, 
makes gesture of silence and pretends to attempt to overhear 
their conversation.') My cousin tells him in his ear that he is 
in her heart. 

Claud. And so she. doth, cousin. 

{Rises pointedly and leads Hero into arbor r. where they sit 

on bench inside.') 

(Beat., Don P. and Leon, laugh.) 

Beat. Good Lord, for alliances ! Thus goes every one to 
the world but I, and I am sun-burnt; I may sit in a corner, 
and cry heigh-ho for a husband ! 

Don p. Lady Beatrice, 1 will get you one. 

Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting. 
Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got 
excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. 

Don p. Will you have me, lady ? 

Beat, {with a deep, 7no eking courtesy to hij?i). No, my 
lord, unless I might have another for working-days : your 
Grace is too costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your 
Grace, pardon me {holding out her hand to him impulsively) ; 
I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. 

Don p. {taking Beat.'s outstretched hand and bending over 
it). Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best be- 
comes you ; for, out of question, you were born in a merry 
hour. 

Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there 
was a star danced, and under that was I born. ( With a sign 
to the others, creeps to on-stage window of arbor, lays her fan 
on low plajits under it, and playfully pushes the lovers^ heads 
together, crying.) Cousins, God give you joy ! 

{Runs off tip stagey and exit up steps l. u. e., leaving her fan 

behitid.) 

LIGHTS down* 



MUCH ADO ABOUl^ NOTHING 4I 

{After exit of Beat, begin to dim. moo?ilights slowly till they 
are all off by exit of Hero, Don P., etc.^ 

(Don p. afid Leon, laugh.) 

Don V. {looking after her). By my troth, a pleasant- 
spirited lady. 

Leon, {sitting on l. side of round bench down l.). There's 
little of the melancholy element in her, my lord : she is never 
sad but when she sleeps ; and not ever sad then ; for I have 
heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness, 
and waked herself with laughing. 

Don p. {crosses y meditating^ and sits R. of Leon, on round 
be7ich, down l.). She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. 

Leon. O, by no means : she mocks all her wooers out of 
suit. 

Don p. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. 

Leon, {with hands up in amazement). O Lord, my lord, 
if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves 
mad. 

Tio^Y. {calling across to arbor). County Claudio. (Claud. 
and Hero rise and appear iti doorway of arbor. Claud., r., 
Hero, l.) When mean you to go to church? 

Claud, {leaving Hero, r. c). To-morrow, my lord: time 
goes on crutches till love have all his rites. 

Leon, Not till Monday, my dear son ; and a time too 
brief, too, to have all things answer my mind. 

Don p. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing : 
but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. 
I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labours; 
which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into 
a mountain of affection the one with the other. (Leon, rises 
amazed.) I would fain have it a match ; and I doubt not but 
to fashion it {risifig and going c), if you three will but minister 
such assistance as I shall give you direction. 

Leon, {going to Don P.). My lord, I am for you, though 
it cost me ten nights' watchings. 

Claud, {crossing Yiw^o l. to Don P.). And I, my lord. 

Don p. And you too, gende Hero ? 

Hero {down r. c). I will do any modest office, my lord, 
to help my cousin to a good husband. 

Don p. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that 
I know. Thus far can I praise him ; he is of a noble strain, of 
approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you 



42 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with 
Benedick \ and I, with your two helps will so practice on Bene- 
dick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his quesy stomach, 
he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is 
no longer an archer : his glory shall be ours (^grasping Leon. 
by one hand and Claud, by the other), for we {raising their 
hands) are the only love-gods. {The others look at him in 
amazement, and he is about to explain his plan further, and 
they gather together to hear, when 7wise and laughter of de- 
parting guests is heard off L. u. e. Enter Seneschal down 
steps L. u. E., followed by BoY.) Go in with me and I will 
tell you my drift. 

READY bell to strike. 

Exeunt by steps down l. i e., Don P., Leon., Hero and 

Claud. 

DOWN lights. 

(Seneschal comes c, and by a gesture, orders Boy to open 
big gates doivn r. i E. Boy crosses and does so, and re- 
mains outside holding gate open.) 

Enter, laughing and talking, dow?i steps l. u. e., two groups 
of departing guests, carrying lanterns {not the lanterns 
used in the dance but more serviceable affairs, to light 
themselves home by). First Group consists ^Girl A, 
Man I and Girl B and Man 2. The Seneschal pre- 
cedes this group across stage to gate R. i E., and stands 
in front of arbor bowing them out. They exit R. i e. 
As this group crosses, enter, down step, l. u. e., Secotid 
Group, consistifig of Man 3, Girl C ; Choir Men X, 
Y andZ', and Harlequin, Columbine in guest costumes — 
if they have not time to change omit them. 

{Second group crosses ^«^ exits at gate r. i e. Durifig these 
exits, and concealed by thejn, Don J. enters arbor fro7n 
R. and sits on bench inside hidden from audiefice. Boy 
comes inside gates and closes them. Seneschal goes to 
gate and locks it with large key.) 

Enter Servant 4 down steps l. u. e., and puts out — or takes 
away — all lamps by back drop. Boy goes into arbor and 
extinguishes lamps hanging there. Seneschal crosses to 
L. and puts out all lamps on that side of the stage. Then 
exeunt, up- stairs^ l. i e., Seneschal, Servant 4 and 



^UCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 43 

Boy. Meantime, as each guest who carries a la?iter7t 
exits, and as each on-stage lamp is extinguished, check 
all lights. As last lamp is extinguished, the lights are 
almost black, the middle border entirely out, and only a 
glimmer in the back border a?td foots. A long pause : then 
the house bell, off l., tolls once, to defiote that house is 

BELL 

closed for the night. After another pause, Don J. rises 
quietly and comes slowly to down-stage entrance to arbor, 
and stands there in meditaiiofi. N. B. The stage should 
710W be so dark that his figure is just disti?iguishable, but 
no ?}iore. Pause. 

Enter quietly on steps l. u. e., Bor., who, since his last exit ^., 
has crossed stage behind back drop, with lighted lantern 
hidden u?ider his cloak. Sta?ids for a moment on steps 
listening, and then cautiously raises the la?itern above his 
head, and shading his eyes with his hand looks about gar- 
den. The light should strike his face so that he is recog- 
nized by the audience. As Bor. flashes lantern, check re- 
maining lights, so that they can go dead out when lantern 
is blow7i out. Seeing ?io one, Bor. cloaks lantern again 
and is about to retire l. u. e., when Don J. says quietly, 
** Borachio.^^ Bor., still hidittg the light, crosses to 
him R. 

Don J. {at entrance to arbor r.). It is so ; the Count 
Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. 
Bor. Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. 

(Don J. crossing Bor. to l. to round seat down l.) 

Don J. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medic - 
inable to me : whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges 
evenly with mine. {Sits on round seat down 1.. front.') How 
canst thou cross this marriage ? 

BoR. {following Don J., l.). Not honestly, my lord ; but 
so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. 

Don J. Show me briefly how. 

(Bor. kneels with one knee on back of round seat down l. , un- 
covers his laritern, and places it on the top of the seat, so 
that its light strongly illumifiates Don ].^s> face and his 
own.) 



44 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

BOR. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much 
I am in the favor of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to 
Hero. 

Don J. I remember. 

BoR. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, ap- 
point her to look out at her lady's chamber window. 

Don J. What life is in that, to be the death of this 
marriage ? 

BoR. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to 
the prince your brother ; spare not to tell him that he hath 
wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio — whose 
estimation do you mightily hold up — to such a one as Hero. 

READY lights out black* 

Don J. What proof shall I make of that ? 

BoR. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, 
to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Find me a meet hour to 
draw Don Pedro and Count Claudio alone : tell them that you 
know that Hero loves me. They will scarcely believe this 
without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less 
likelihood than to see me at her chamber window ; hear me 
call Margaret, Hero ; and bring them to see this the very night 
before the intended wedding — for in the meantime I will so 
fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent, — and there shall 
appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy 
shall be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown. 

Don J. {after a pause to consider). Grow this to what ad- 
verse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the 
working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. 

BoR. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning 
shall not shame me. 

Don J. {rising ). I will presently go learn their day of mar- 
riage. 

{As Don J. rises he appears to hear some one stirring in the 
-garden^ and makes a sign to Bor., who blows out the lan- 
tern. As latitern is bloivn out, all lights go black out. ) 

LIGHTS out- 
Exeunt Don J. and Bor. upstairs l. i e. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING . 45 




MUSICAL INTERMEZZO 

with tight effects to deftote the change from flight to mornings be- 
tween Act II atid Act III. 

The music is descriptive of night, the coming of dawn, daybreak, 
at last full day. 

LIGHTS 

After 4S-6o seconds of black darkness, the pale rose dawn light be- 
gins to show faintly in the sky only, at first [transparent drop), 
then to be reflected in the sea. As light behind drop increases, 
work up ambers itt back border very gradually till back drop is 
pretty bright before the other borders and foots come on. Then 
gradually work up all lights. When all borders and foots are 
about one-half up, bring up the arc lights [pale rose mediums) 
on dimmers gradually to full to full up, to represent the early 
morning sunlight; then change these to ambers. After all arcs 
are full up, bring up all foots and borders to full power grad- 
ually. All these light effects should harmonize with the char- 
acter of the music. 



ACT III 

Scene i. — Leonato's garden. Morning. 

READY horn, R* 

(Laughter heard off r.) 

HORN off R* 

Enter gate^ down r., 'Be^., folloived by Boy, Man i, Man 2 
and Man 3. Ben. is ifi hawkifig costume, gloved, arid 
with a hooded falcon on his wrist. He enters followed 
by Boy. The Men come Just in sight behind gate, and 
then exit R. ^^e^. crosses r. c, arid gives hawk and 
gloves to Boy. Boy crosses l. as if to exit up steps 
L. u. e. Ben. crosses to l. c. 

Ben. {calling after Boy). Boy ! 
Boy [turning up h.). Signior? 



46 , MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Ben. In my chamber-window lies a book : bring it hither 
to me. (^Indicates arbor r. Boy bows and exits up steps 
L. u. E. Ben. turns as if to go i?ito arbor through up- stage 
efitrafice, sees Beat.'s yia!/^ tying on tow shrubs before arbor, 
picks it up, and after a mome?ifs reflection.') I do much 
wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool 
when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath 
laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument 
of his own scorn by falling in love : and such a man is Claudio. 
I have known when there was no music with him but the drum 
and the fife ; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the 
pipe : I have known w^hen he would have walked ten mile 
a-foot to see a good armour ; and now will he lie ten nights 
awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to 
speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a sol- 
dier ; and now is he turned orthography ; his words are a very 
fantastical banquet, — ^just so many strange dishes. {Regard- 
i7ig fan again, and, after a pause.) May /be so converted 
and see with these eyes ? I cannot tell ; I think not. {Pointedly 
lays faft back o?i shrubs by arbor.) I will not be sworn but 
love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take m.y oath on 
it, //// he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me 
such a fool. {Crosses l. to round seat dow 711..) One woman 
is fair, yet I am well : another is wise, yet I am well \ another 
virtuous, yet I am well : but till all graces be in one woman, 
one woman shall not come in my grace. {Sits on round seat 
down L.) Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; 
fair, or I'll never look on her ; mild, or come not near me ; no- 
ble, or not I; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and 
her hair — shall be of what color it please Heaven. {Hears 
Don p. approaching, L. i e.) Ha ! the prince and Monsieur 
Love ! I will hide me in the arbor. 

{Crosses stealthily up R,, goes i?tto arbor through up- stage en- 
trance, and sits on seat inside, coficealed from audience.) 

Enter down steps l. i e., Don P. (i), Claud. (2), andY.'^o^. 
(3). They go up L. to below fountain and gaze craftily 
about for Ben. 

Don p. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? 
Claud. O, very well, my lord. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 47 

Enter tiown steps l. u. e., Boy, with book for Ben., stops at 
foot of steps to bow to the geiitlemen^ ajid then looks about 
for Ben. , spies him ifi the arbor y and is about to go to hiitiy 
when realizifig his purpose, Claud, and Don P. rush at 
him and capture him c. Claud, leads him up l. c. by the 
ear, and by gestures they conunand him to exit, which he 
doeSy wonderingly, l. u. e., /// steps. The conspirators 
look across to see if their move has been observed by Ben. 

Don Pw (comi7ig down c). Come, shall we hear this music ? 
. Claud, {comifig down c). Yea, my good lord. 

(Don p. motiofis off up l. i e. for Balth. to approach. Leon. 

Joins Don P., c.) 

Enter down steps l. i e., Balth. , followed by Choir Boys, with 
strifiged instruments. Balth. comes L. c. The Boys 
stand grouped on the steps. 

Don p. {coming to round seat down l.). Come, Balthasar, 
we'll hear that song again. 

READY music* 

Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice 

To slander music any more than once. 
Don p. It is the witness still of excellency 

To put a strange face on his own perfection. 

I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. 

{Sits on l. of circular seat, facing from audience.^ 

(Leon, sits on r. of circular seat, facing left front, half turned 
from audience. Ci.kv'D. sta7ids c.,facing'BALr£B.. Balth. 
makes a sign to Boys, who begi?i to play the prelude.) 

Ben. (as Balth. enters, Ben., curious, rises and peers 
round down-stage entrance to arbor ; and, as music begins') : 

MUSIC 

Now, divine air ! now is his soul ravished ! Well, a horn for 
my money, when all's done. 



48 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

{Stands in arbor door during song, occasionally , during the 
chorus, beating time out of titne.') 

THE SONG 

Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, 

Men were deceivers ever, 
One foot in sea and one on shore, 

To one thing constant never : 
Then sigh not so, but let them go, 

And be you blithe and bonny, 
Converting all your sounds of woe 

Into tiey nonny, nonny. 

Sing no more ditties, sing no more. 

Of dumps so dull and heavy; 
The fraud of men was ever so, 

Since summer first was leavy : 
Then sigh not so, etc. 

Don p. (rising ). By my troth, a good song. 
Balth. (jvith a bow). And an ill singer, my lord. 
Don p. Ha, no, no, faith. 

(Claud, goes /<? Don P. and speaks to him.) 

Ben. {in doorway of arbor). An he had been a dog that 
should have howled thus, they would have hanged him. 

{Returns into arbor and reseats himself ifiside.) 

Don P. {to Claud.). Yea, marry. {Turning to BAUYn.) 
Dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee, get us some excellent 
music ; for to-morrow night we should have it at the Lady 
Hero's chamber-window. 

Balth. The best I can, my lord. 

Don P. {crossing c). Do so : farewell. (Balth. makes 
sig7i to Choir Boys who exit up steps l. i e. He follows them 
and exits. After glancing to see that Ben. is still in the ar- 
bor, and with a meaning sign to the others, Don P. goes R. and 
seats himself on down-stage end of bench by arbor.) Come 
hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day? that 
your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick ? 

(Leon, crosses to Don P. — pausing for Claud. 's aside — and 
sits above him on bench r.) 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 49 

Claud. Oh, ay. {Comes around f 7- om back of seat to in- 
tercept Leon, as he crosses^ and aside to him.) Stalk on, stalk 
on; the fowl sits. {Aloud, approaching the others w.c.) I did 
never think that lady would have loved any man. 

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she 
should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all out- 
ward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. 

Ben. Qisijig slowly, his amazed face appearing at window 
in L. side of arbor. Aside). Is 't possible? Sits the wind in 
that corner? {Disappears.') 

Leon. By ray troth, my lord, Lcannot tell what to think of 
it, but — she loves him with an enraged affection ; — it is past the 
infinite of thought. 

Don p. May be she doth but counterfeit. 

Claud. Faith, like enough. 

Leon. O Lord, counterfeit! There was never counterfeit 
of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. 

Don p. Why, what effects of passion shows she ? 

Claud, {aside to Leon.). Bait the hook well ; this fish will 
bite. 

Leon, {hesitating, — trying to invent but unable to do so). 
What effects, my lord? She . . . will sit you, . . . {To 
Claud,, endeavoring to shift the burden on to him) you heard 
my daughter tell you how. 

Claud, {turning away with a co?icealed laugh at Leon.'s 
plight). She did, indeed. 

Don p. (?/r^/«^LEON. on). How, how, I pray you ? {Then 
seeing that Leon, is stuck.) You amaze me. {Rises and 
crosses l. to ro7ind bench doivn L. ) I would have thought her 
spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. 

Leon, {in great relief, folloiving Don P. to r. of round 
bench do7vn l. j crossing Claud.). I would have sworn it had, 
my lord ; especially against Benedick. 

Ben. {as the others cross, Ben. has crept again to front en- 
trance of arbor). I should think this a gull, but that the 
white-bearded fellow speaks it : knavery cannot, sure, hide him- 
self in such reverence. 

{During the following speeches, Ben. stands in down-stage 
arbor door, expressi?ig his varying emotio?is by face and 
attitude, and occasiojially dodgi?ig in out of sight.) 

Claud, {crossing l. to back of round seat down l. and 
kneeling on it). He hath ta'en the infection : hold it up. 



50 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Don p. {siis^. Hath she made her affection known to 
Benedick? 

Leon. No ; and swears she never will : that's her torment. 

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed ; so your daughter says. 

Leon, {sitting on r. side of beticli). My daughter says the 
ecstasy hath so much overborne her that she is sometime 
afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself. 

Don p. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some 
other, if she will not discover it. 

Claud. To what end ? He would make but a sport of it, 
and torment the poor lady worse. 

Don p. An he should, it were an alms deed to hang him. 
She's an excellent sweet lady. 

Claud. And she is exceeding wise. 

Don p. In everything but in loving Benedick. I would 
she had bestowed this dotage on me (rises and goes c. and 
tur?is) : I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what a* will 
say. 

Leon, (rising and going to Don P., c). Were it good, 
think you ? 

Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die ; for she says she 
will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere she make her 
love known ; and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she 
will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. 

Don p. She doth well ; if she should make tender of her 
love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it ; for the man, as you know 
all, hath a contemptible spirit. (Ben., piqued^ retires into 
arbor. Don P., reflectively coming down c. a littleJ) Well, I 
am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell 
him of her love ? 

Claud, (standi Jtg up behind round seat, l.). Never tell 
him, my lord : let her wear it out with good counsel. 

Leon. Nay, that's impossible : she may wear her heart out 
first. 

Don P. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter : 
let it cool the while. I love Benedick well ; and I could wish 
he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is 
unworthy so good a lady. 

(Claud, nearly bursts of suppressed laughter. The others 
frown at him in alarmed reproof. He goes l. of round 
seat — going in front of it — and stands facing away from 
them.') 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 5 1 

Leon, {ivith a glance of reproof at Claud., as if afraid to 
trust hii7i further, they start up c. together). My lord, will 
you walk? Dinner is ready. 

Claud, {running round above them, and coming between 
them c. ; aside). If he do not dote on her upon this, I will 
never trust my expectation. 

Don p. Let there be the same net spread for her ; and that 
must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport 
will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, 
and no such matter: that's the scene that I would see. (^They 
all fiearly explode with suppressed laughter, aiid taking pains 
to resu7ne their outward gravity, they turn up c. as if to exit 
L. u. E., Don p. going ahead, and Leon, and Claud, follow- 
ifig. Don P. as he reaches foot of steps L. u. e. is struck with 
a new idea ; turning and iiitercepting the others.) Let us send 
her to call him in to dinner. 

{They all nearly explode agaifi with laughter, and restraining 
it — for it should not be so marked that Ben., behind them] 
could perceive their mirth — they exit up steps L. u. E., 
with arms about each other' s necks.) 

Ben. {coming out of arbor and sinking, amazed, on right 
end of bench by arbor). This can be no trick : the conference 
was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. 
They seem to pity the lady : it seems her affections have their 
full bent. {Rising and going dow?i c.) Love me ! why, it 
must be requited. I hear how I am censured : they say 1 will 
bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her ; they 
say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. 
I did never think to marry : I must not seem proud : happy 
are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mend- 
ing. {Bethinks himself of Beat.'s fan — on low shrubs l. of 
arbor — picks it up tenderly, and comes c. Throughout the 
speech he handles the fan in marked contrast to his previous 
light treatment of it.) They say the lady is fair, — 'tis a truth, 
1 can bear them witness ; and wise, but for loving me, — by my 
troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of 
her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. {Goes to 
round seat l. c. ; sits and thinks.) I may chance have some 
odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have 
railed so long against marriage : but doth not the appetite 
alter ? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure 



52 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets 
of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour ? No 
(rises), the world must be peopled. When I said I would die 
a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. 
(^Crosses up r., in meditation, as if to exit L. u. E., but as he 
7iears steps looks off and sees Beat, approaching l. u. e. ) 
Here comes Beatrice. {If ides fan hastily behind his back ; 
then, looking off.) By this day ! she's a fair lady: I do spy 
some marks of love in her. 

{^Backs down stage to bench by arbor, r. c, and sits, assuming 
an effectively pensive attitude.) 

Enter Beat. 07i platform, l. u. e., and stands looking down- 
at Ben. for a moment with a mischievous smile before 
. speaking. 

Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to 
dinner. 

Ben. (^rising with an elaborately courtly bow). Fair Bea- 
trice, I thank you for your pains. 

WARN curtain* 

Beat, {coming down steps and advancing up l. c). I took 
no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank 
me : if it had been painful, I would not have come. 

Ben. {going c. to her, and with insinuating tenderness of 
tone). You take pleasure, then, in the message? 

Beat. Yea {iJuith a little look of wojider at his tone), just 
SO' much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a 
daw withal. {He turns away as if a little wounded. Beat., 
still wondering at his evident change of manner, goes half-ivay 
up steps, turfis, and then.) You have no stomach, signior? 
(He does not atiswer. She goes to top of steps a7id turns.) 
Fare you well. 

{He turns. She drops him a deep, mocking courtesy and exits 

L. u. E.) 

Ben. {up c, watches her off, atid then turns and comes 
down c, and again regarding the fan). Ha! . . . Against 
my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner ; there's a 
double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks 
than you took pains to thank me ; that's as much as to say, 
"Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks." {With 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 53 

vigorous resoluiio7i.') If I do not take pity of her, I am a 
villain ; if 1 do not love her, I am a Jew ! {A i?i07?ie?ifs pause^ 
and then with suddeti inspiration.) I will go get her picture, 

(Stands c, as if inspired by the idea.) 
CURTAIN 



Scene 2. — Leonato's Garden. — After 7ioon. 

{Arc lights change to opposite side of scene fro?n previous scene, 
Marg. discovered seated on bench by arbor, r. c, em- 
broidering at ati Elizabethan tapestry frame.) 

Enter on platform, l. u. e., Hero and Urs., as if looking 
for Marg. As they see her, Hero rutis down steps and 
crosses to her, rapidly. Urs. follows, more slowly, and 
comes C.) 

{Note : In this scene Hero carries a plumed fan, in the centre 
of which is set a small mirror. She should make the au- 
dience aware of the mirror — by using it to adjust her hair, 
or the like — during the opening speeches.) 

Hero (r. c). Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor; 
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice 
Proposing with the prince and Claudio : 
Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula 
Walk in the garden, and our whole discourse 
Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us; 
And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
To listen to our purpose. 

(Marg. gathers up her embroidery and goes toward 1,. u. E.) 

This is thy office ; 
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 
Marg. (turning at bottom of steps l. u. e.). I'll make her 
come, I warrant you, presently. 

Exit, L. u. e. 



54 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Hero (^ going /^ Urs., c, and during the first lines bring- 
ing her down toward round seat, l. c). 

Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, 
Our talk must only be of Benedick. 
When I do name him^ let it be thy part 
To praise him more than ever man did merit: 

{They sit on round seat, l. c. ; Hero on r. of Urs.) 

My talk to thee must be, how Benedick 
Is sick in love with Beatrice. 

Enter Beat. , stealthily — her face beaming with anticipation 
of mischief — down steps L. u. e., and steals across r., up- 
stage, and into arbor r. by its up-stage doorway, and 
stands in that doorway. As Beat, enters, Hero sees her 
in the mirror in her fan and points her out to Urs. 

Now begin ; 
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
Close by the ground, to hear our conference. 

Urs. Fear you not my part of the dialogue. 

Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing 
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. 

(Both rise and cross r. slowly, durifig Urs.'s speech. Hero 

on R. ^Urs.) 

No truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. 
Urs. But are you sure 

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? 
Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed lord. 
Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? 

( They stop below door of arbor r. and stand. Beat, shrinks 
back behind up-stage entrance to arbor.) 

Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it ; 
But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, 
To wish him wrestle with affection, 
And never to let Beatrice know of it. 

(Beat., amazed, and as if to hear better, creeps out from be- 
hind arbor to up L. c. ) 

Urs. Why did you so ? Doth not the gentleman 
Deserve as full — 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 55 

Hero {interruptifig : going to gate r. i e. ajid standing. 
Urs. moves to entrance of arbor. Beat, comes down a little^. 

I know he doth deserve 
As much as may be yielded to a man : 
But nature never framed a woman's heart 
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; 
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
Misprising what they look on ; and her wit 
Values itself so highly, that to her 
All matter else seems weak : 

{Crosses Urs. l., to bench by arbor l., and sits on l. end of 

bench.) 

she cannot love 

(Beat, shrinks up c.) 

She is so self-endeared. 
Urs. Sure, I think so; 

And therefore certainly it were not good 
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. 

{Walks R. to gate r. i e., and then rettirns to before entrance 
to arbor, during Hero's speech.) 

Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, 
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, 
But she would spell him backward : if fair-faced. 
She would swear the gentleman should be her sister ; 
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds j 
If silent, why, a block moved with none. 
So turns she every man the wrong side out. 

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. 

Hero. But who dare tell her so ? If I should speak, 

She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me" 
Out of myself, press me to death with wit ! 
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire. 
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : 
It were a better death than die with mocks. 
Which is as bad as die with tickling. 

Urs. {going to bench by arbor and sitting r. of Hero). 
Yet tell her of it : hear what she will say. 

Hero {rising afid going c). 

No ; rather I will go to Benedick, 



$6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

(As Hero rises. Beat, creeps back behind arbor,) 

And counsel him to fight against his passion, 

( Tur?iijtg c. ) 

And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders 
To stain my cousin with : one doth not know 
How much an ill word may empoison liking. 

Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong ! 

She cannot be so much without true judgment,— 
Having so swift and excellent a wit 
As she is prized to have, — as to refuse 
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. 

Hero. He is the only man of Italy, — 
Always excepted my dear Claudio. 

Urs. {rising and joining Hero, c). When are you mar- 
ried, madam? 

Hero. Why, every day, — to-morrow. 

(Crossing slowly with Urs. toward steps L. i E., and mean- 
time watching for Beat, in her fan J) 

Come, go in : 
I'll show thee some attires ; and have thy counsel 
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. 

(Sees Beat, iii herfa?z as they reach L. i e., and calls Ur.s.'s 
attention. As they cross. Beat, follows them over, tip- 
stage, and as they turn before exit, she hides behind foun- 
tain L. c.) 

Urs. She's limed, I warrant you : we have caught her, 

madam. 
Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps : 
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 

Exeunt Hero atid Urs., up steps l. i e. 

Beat, (crossing slowly down c. and pausing c). What 
fire is in mine ears ? 
Can this be true ? 

Stand I condemn *d for pride and scorn so much ? 
Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 
No glory lives behind the back of such. 

(Stretching out her arms toward house L.) 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING S7 

And Benedick, love on ; 1 will requite thee, 
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand : 

If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
To bind our loves up in a holy band ; 

For others say thou dost deserve, and 1 — 

( Wi/h a flash of her old humor at herself^ 
Believe it better than reportingly. 

(^Hears Don P. and others approaching i., i e., and, ashamed 
to be caught in her present mood, runs into arbor, and 
exits through arbor r.) 

Enter Claud., r., and Don P., l., down steps l. i e. 
Don p. has his arm thrown affectionately across Claud. 's 
shoulder, and as they speak they cross slowly to bench r. 
by arbor. 

Don p. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, 
and then I go toward Arragon. 

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe 
me, 

Don p. {laughing'). Nay, that would be as great a soil in 
the new gloss of your -marriage, as to show a child his new coat 
and forbid him to wear it. {As they reach bench by arbor r., 
they sit, Claud, on down-stage end, and Don P. above him. 
Enter dowft steps l. i e., Leon., r. ^/^^Ben., l. Ben. 
stands pe?isively by round be?ich down L. ; Leon, goes to up c. 
Don p. pointedly.') I will only be bold with Benedick for his 
company ; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his 
foot, he is all mirth : he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow- 
string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him ; he hath 
a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for 
what his heart thinks his tongue speaks. 

Ben. {standing by round seat down l.). Gallants, I am not 
as 1 have been. 

Leon. (/// c). So say I : methinks you are sadder. 

Claud. I hope he be in love. 

(Ben. sits on round seat, down l., and faces away from them.) 

Don p. Hang him, truant ! there's no true drop of blood 
in him to be truly touched with love ; if he be sad, he wants 
money. 



58 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Ben, 1 have the toothache. 
Don p. What ! sigh for the toothache ? 
Leon. Which is but a humour or a worm. 
Ben. {rising petulantly). Well, every one can master a 
grief but he that has it. 

{Goes up to fountain i,.f leans over it, and produces handker- 
chief which he holds to his cheek.) 

Claud, {rising). Yet say I, he is in love. 

Don p. {crossing to l. ^Leon., c). There is no appear- 
ance of fancy in him^ unless it be a fancy that he hath to 
strange disguises; as {indicating Ben.'s fashionable garb, and 
walking around to L. of Ben. as if admiring him), to be a 
Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow. 

Claud, {crossing to behind Ben.). If he be not in love 
with some woman, there is no believing old songs {rising on 
tiptoe to observe Ben.'s hat) : a' brushes his hat o' mornings: 
what should that bode ? 

Don p. (l. and below Ben., stooping down to look up at 
Ben.'s face). Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? 

(Ben. turns his face sharply up stage.) 

Claud, {going up to above Ben. and looking at his face). 
No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him ; and the 
old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls. 

(Ben. puts handkerchief again to his face.) 

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss 
of a beard. 

Don p. {snatching Ben.'s handkerchief from him^ and 
smelling it). Nay, a' rubs himself with civet: can you smell 
him out by that? 

(Ben. turns to snatch handkerchief, a?td Don P. tosses it 
over Ben.'s head to Claud.) 

Claud, {smelling handkerchief). That's as much as to 
say, the sweet youth's in love. 

(Ben. goes to l. of Claud, to get handkerchief. Claud, tosses 

it to Leon.) 

Don P. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 59 

(Ben. crosses Claud, to Leon., who^ laughingly, hands him 

the hatidkerchief .) 

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. 

Don p. That would 1 know too : I warrant, one that knows 
him not. 

Claud. Yes, and, in despite of all, dies for him. 

Ben. {turning upon them sharply). Yet is this no eharm 
for the toothache. {To Leon.) Old Signior, walk aside with 
me : I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, 
which these hobby-horses must not hear. 

(Takes Leon, by the arm and leads him up l., with an indig- 
nant glance back at the others.) 

Exeunt Ben. and Leon, up steps l. u. e. 

Don p. {as they disappear, clapping his hands in inirth 
and going c, crossing Claud.). For my life, to break with 
him about Beatrice. 

Claud, {following him to c). 'Tis even so. Hero and 
Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice ; and 
then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. 

Enter Don J., through gate r. i e. 

Don J. {coming r. c). My lord and brother, Heaven save 
you ! 

Don p. (c). Good den, brother. 

Don J. If your leisure served, I would speak with you. 

Don p. In private ? 

Don J. If it please you (Claud, starts l., as if to exit 
L. I e. ; Don J. stops him with) : yet Count Claudio may 
hear; for what I would speak of concerns him. 

Claud, {turning i.. c). What's the matter? 

Don J. {to Claud.). Means your lordship to be married 
to-morrow ? 

Don p. You know he does. 

Don J. I know not that, when he knows what I know. 

Claud, {wonderingly, and with a shade of indignation in 
his voice). If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. 

Don J. You may think I love you not : let that appear 
hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. 
For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of 



6o MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage — surely suit ill 
spent and labour ill bestowed. 

Don p. Why, what's the matter? 

Don J. I came hither to tell you. (^Cotfies c. to R. of 
Don p. Claud, comes c. to l. of Don P.) Circumstances 
shortened — for she hath been too long a talking of— the lady is 
disloyal. 

Claud. Who, Hero ? 

{His hand, with an impetuous gesture, to his sword^ 
(Don p. lays his hand on Claud. 's arfu to quiet him.) 

Don J. Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every 
man's Hero. 

Claud, (^stunned — not under stafiding). Disloyal? 

Don J. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; 
I could say she were worse : think you of a worse title, and I 
will fit her to it. (Claud, shrinks back from Don P. a few 
steps l. Don P. follows and again lays a restraining hajid 
on his arm.) Wonder not till further warrant : go but with 
me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window entered, even 
the night before her wedding day : if you love her then, to- 
morrow wed her ; but it would better fit your honour to change 
your mind. 

WARN curtain* 

Claud, (jl. c, stunned). May this be so ? 

Don p. (l. c). I will not think it. 

Don J. (c). If you dare not trust that you see, confess not 
that you know : if you will follow me, I will show you enough ; 
and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed 
accordingly. 

Claud, (aflame with sudden boyish suspicion, withdrawiftg 
his arm fro7n Don P.). If I see anything to-night why I 
should not marry her — to-morrow, in the congregation, where I 
should wed, there will I shame her. 

Don p. {putting his arm about Claud. 's shoulders). And, 
as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to dis- 
grace her. 

Don J. I will disparage her no farther till you are my wit- 
nesses {goes up c. and turns) : bear it coldly but till midnight, 
and let the issue show itself. 

£xit z// steps l. u. e., looking back. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 6l 

(^For a moment Don P. and Claud, stafid transfixed in mo- 
tionless horror. Then Claud, abruptly breaks from 
Don P.'s arm and takes a step l. Don P. holds out 
both arms to him in compassion. Suddenly , and with a 
sob, Claud, turns to him and buries his face on Don P.'s 
shoulder.) 

SLOW CURTAIN 



Scene 3. — A Street. — Midnight or, exactly, i A. M, 

Enter, carrying lantern and large bell, Verges from r. u. e. 
As he reaches c. under arch, he turns and beckons off R. 
to the watch. Enter, r. u. e., Seacole, Oatcake, 
Man I, Man 3, Servant 4 and Seneschal, all with 
bills. Verges directs them to stand down l. c. They 
group there in awkward embarrassme?it, Sea. and Oat. 
down-stage tn front. Verg. crosses r. and knocks at 
house door r. and returns C. 

Enter Dogberry from house r., leaving door open behind 
him. Through house door, orange arc light streams out 
and casts a beam across stage. 

Dog. {standing in doorway, r.). Are you good men and 
true? 

Verg. (c). Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer 
salvation, body and soul. 

Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if 
they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the 
prince's watch. 

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbor Dogberry. 

Dog. {coming k. c). First, who think you the most desart- 
less man to be constable ? 

Verg. Hugh Oatcake, or George Seacole ; for they can 
write and read. 

Dog. Come hither, neighbor Seacole. (Sea. stands for- 
ward a little aivkwardly.) Heaven hath blessed you with a 
good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; 
but to write and read comes by nature. You are thought here 



62 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the 
watch; therefore bear you the lantern. (^Motio7is toNw^o,., 
who gives Sea. the lantern and bell. ^ This is your charge : 
you shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you are to bid any man 
stand, in the prince's name. 

(Oat. comes to Sea. and whispers to him.) 

Sea. {stupidly, as if prompted'). How if a' will not stand? 

Dog. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go ; and 
presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God ypu 
are rid of a knave. 

Verg. {eagerly thrusting himself into the conversation, com- 
ing between Dog. a7id Sea.). If he will not stand when he is 
bidden, he is none of the prince's subjects. 

Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but the 
prince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets; 
for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to 
be endured. 

Oat. We will rather sleep than talk : we know what be- 
longs to a watch. 

Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet 
watchman ; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend : only, 
have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call 
at all the ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to 
bed. 

(Oat. again whispers to Sea.) 

Sea. {^prompted by Oat.). How if they will not? 

Dog. Why, then, let them alone till they are sober : if they 
make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not 
the men you took them for. If you meet a thief, you may sus- 
pect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man ; and, for 
such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, 
why, the more is for your honesty. {Starts r., as if to exit.) 

Oat. If we knew him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands 
on him ? 

Dog. [turning). Truly, by your office, you may; but I 
think they that touch pitch will be defiled : (coming toward 
them) the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is 
to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your company. 

{Turns again, as if to exit R.) 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 63 

Verg. {coming forward). You have been always called a 
merciful man, partner. 

Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much 
more a man who hath any honesty in him. 

{Again turning away,) 

Verg. (^eagerly seizing his opportunity, to the watch). If 
you hear a child crying in the night, you must call to the nurse 
and bid her still it. 

(Dog. turns at door, anticipating Verg.'s difficulty. Oat. 

nudges Sea.) 

Sea. {nudged by Oat.). How if the nurse be asleep and 
will not hear us ? 

(Verg. is unable to think of an answer.) 

Dog. {coming r. c, elbowing Verg. aside). Why, then, 
depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying ; for the 
ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never answer 
a {indicating Sea.) calf when he bleats. 

{Turns r. toward door. The Watchmen, amused at the re^ 
tort, grin sheepishly.) 

Verg. {again interfering).- 'Tis very true 

(Dog. interrupts him.) 

Dog. {again turning c, interrupting Y^y^^.'). This is the 
end of the charge : you, constable, are to present the prince's 
own person. If you meet the prince in the night, you may stay 
him. 

Verg. {eagerly). Nay, by 'r lady, that I think a' cannot. 

Dog. Five shillings to one on 't, with any man that knows 
the statues, he may stay him : — marry, not without the prince 
be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man ; 
and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. 

(^During this speech, the Seneschal quietly leans his bill 
against wall l. — not attracting attention to the action — 
and leaves it behind when he exits.) 

Verg. {7vilted). By 'r lady, I think it be so. 

Dog. a, ha! Well, masters, good-night : {goes to door's^. 



64 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

and turns') an there be any matter of weight chances, call up 
me : keep your fellows' counsels and your own ; and good- 
night. (Motions to Verg.) Come, neighbor. 

Exit into house 'r., followed by Verg. They close the door. 

Sea. (^puzzled what to do next). Well, masters, we hear 
our charge . . . {with sudden inspiration) let us go sit here 
upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. 

{They start to exit up through arch c. As they get under 
arch, Dog. opens door and stands in doorway. Verg. 
stafids behind, peering over his shoulder. The Watch 
halts up c.) 

Dog. {standing i7i doorivay). One word more, honest 
neighbors. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato's door ; 
for the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to- 
night. Adieu ... be vigitant ... I beseech you. 

£xit into house, closi?tg the door. Exit through arch c. and 
off L. u. e.. Sea., rifiging bell — the soutid of which grad- 
ually dies away in the distance— followed by Oat., Man i, 
Man 3, Servant 4 ««^ Seneschal. As sound of bell dies 
away, enter Bor. frojn r. u. e. through centre arch. 
Looks off L. after Watch, then comes c, as if to spy some 
shelter, sees pent-house. 

Bor. (c, callifig in whisper). What Conrade ! (Pauses 
and listefis. ) Conrade, I say ! 

Enter Con. through arch from r., and going to l. ^Bor. 

Con. Here, man; — I am at thy elbow. 
Bor. Stand thee close, under this pent-house, for it drizzles 
rain ; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. 

{They go r. and stand huddled under roof over door R., CoN. 
down-stage, Bor. up-stage.) 

Con. And now forward with thy tale. 

Bor. I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. 

Enter fro77t l. u. e, to up c, Oat., as if in search of bill, 
tvhich was left against wall L. As he sees the conspira- 
tors, he starts, dismayed, aud does not dare go dow?i. At 
the word " villains " in Bor.'s speech he starts again and 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 65 

exits, stealing off l. u. e. , as if to warn the others. He 
must be out of sight before ^o^. says ^^ Didst thou not 
hear somebody .^ " 

Con. Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear ? 

BOR. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were possible any vil- 
lainy should be so rich ] for when rich villains have need of 
poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. {Paus- 
ing suddenly to liste?t.) Didst thou not hear somebody? 

Con. (coming out c, looking about ^ and then up at roof of 
house). No; 'twas the vane on the house. 

{Holds up his hand to see whether it still rains.) 

BOR. Not so, neither; {sees Con.'s gesture^ and holds up 
his own hand to feel whether it still rains, fitidi?tg it does ?iot, 
comes c. on r. ^/Con.) well, know that I have to-night wooed 
Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero. 
She leans me out at her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a 
thousand times good-night, — I tell this tale vilely : — I should first 
tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master, planted by my 
master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable en- 
counter 

Con. {contemptuously). And thought thy Margaret was 
Hero? 

Enter /r^^ l. u. e., stealthily, in arch. Sea., with bell, Oat., 
Seneschal, Man i, Man 3 and Servant 4. They steal 
on slowly and group in the arch, Sea. on r. of arch, Oat. 
on L. of arch, the other in the middle. This entrance, 
which takes place during Bor.'s speech, should be made 
as quietly as possible, that attention may not be distracted 
from the lines. 

Bor. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the 
devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his 
oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, 
which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did 
confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went 
Claudio enraged ; swore he would meet her, as he was ap- 
pointed, to-morrow morning at the temple, and there, before 
the v^hole congregation, shame her with what he saw o'er night, 
and send her home again without a husband. 

WARN curtain* 



66 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Sea. {running dow?i r. c, ringing his bell violently). We 
charge you, in the prince's name, stand ! 

(jOat. runs down on L. of Con. and grasps him. Seneschal 
runs down on R. of Bor. and seizes him. Man i atid 
Man 3 and Servant 4 come dow?i behind Bor. and Con., 
and seize them from behind. They struggle and whole 
group works L.) 

Oat. {struggling with Con.). Call up the right master 
constable. (Sea. ru?is to door r. and ktiocks violently and then 
cojnes c, ringing his bell.) We have here the most dangerous 
piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. 

Sea. {again runniiig to door r. and knocking). Never 
speak : {comes c.) we charge you let us obey you to go 
with us. 

Enter, amazed, in doorway r., Dog., in night cap, and with 
a pot of ale in his hatid. Verg., also with a pot of ale, 
seen peering over his shoulder. Picture. 



CURTAIN 



ACT IV 

READY music. 
Scene i. — A Church. — Morning. 

MUSIC 

{Curtain rises on empty stage. Ten seconds after rise, choir 
heard singing off, very distant at first, and slowly grow- 
ing louder till entrance of choir. As first faint sifiging 
is heard, ^r\\.tx from R. 2 E., behind altar, BoY with 
lighted taper. Comes C. , makes oenufiectio7i before altar, 
opens gate in altar rail and goes up onto altar to light 
candles ; lights candles visible to audience, and then goes 
into altar as if to light candles behiftd and exit. He does 
not reenter. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 67 

Lights. — As Boy begins to light altar, bring up on dimmers, 
very gradually, two spot lights {one rose pink, the other 
amber') both of tvhich are set above a?id behi?id altar and 
trained to throw a beam down the steps of the altar, and 
two-thirds across the stage. (N. B. This light is sup- 
posed to represe?it the candle light from altar and should 
not be brought up to full power until entrance of Friar.) 
At the same time bring up on dimmer from fly -gallery L., 
amber spot light, trained to cover the same area as the 
altar spots. {The object of the L. light is to softeii the 
shadows from altar lights ; and it should blend with them 
and not show as separate light.) 

{As Boy goes up on altar, QXit&T from r. 2 e., behind altar, 
Servant 4, dressed as a Verger ; crosses L. to gates l. 
/// cut drop, opens them and stands outside, waiting for 
processio?!.) 

Enter from r. u. e., behind cut drop ; crossing L., and enter- 
ing scene through gates l. 

PROCESSION 

- (i) Choir {six boys and four monks, in pairs'). The first 
two boys are swinging censers with incense. All the 
other boys and the choir men carry tall lighted church 
candles. 

(2) Seneschal, dressed as cross-bearer with tall gilded 

cross. 

(3) Friar. 

SPACE 

(4) Hero r. and Claud, l. (Claud, holds Hero by her 

L. hand.) 

SPACE , 

(5) Beat. 

(6) Ant. r. and Leon. l. 

(7) Urs. r. and Marg. l. 

SPACE 

(8) Don P. r. a7id Don J. l. 

(9) Ben. 



68 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

SPACE 

(lo) Girl A r. and Man i l. (Sexton. ) 
(ii) Girl B r. and Man 2 l. (Oat.) 
(12) Girl C r. and Man 3 l. 

Choir turns up c. toward altar, and as they come to about 

R. c. each pair makes a genuflection before altar ^ turns 

and exit R. 2 e. , behind altar. 
Cross-Bearer makes genuflection and follows Choir off 

R. 2 E. 
Friar makes getiuflection and goes up on to altar and kneels 

before desk. 
Claud, leads Hero to altar, where she kneels on steps ; he 

makes genuflection and stafids Just before steps. 
Beat, goes to foot of steps above Hero. 
Ant. goes above and l. ^ Beat, (^standing out of light). 
Leon, goes l. of Beat, and a little below her. 
Urs. and Marg. go up c. and stand Just out of light. 
Don p. goes c, ajid stands i7i light, in fro fit of Marg. 
Don J. tur7is l. and stands beyond light l., opposite altar. 
Ben. goes left of Don P. and a little above him , Just out of 

light. 
Girl A and Man i go up l. of gate and behind Y^o^ J., out 

of light. 
Girl B and Man 2 go tip c, behind Urs. and Marg. 
Girl C and Man 3 go up l., behind Girl A and Man i. 
Servant 4 (Verger) sta?ids in gatezvay l., closing gate 

behind him. 

{See positions on scene plan.) 

(^As Choir exits, singing dim. to pp. and then dies away ; but 
organ continues pp. till Claud. 's line ^^ Stand thee by, 
Friar, ^^ and then ceases abruptly.) 

MUSIC 

(^As singing ceases, the Friar rises, comes to edge of platform, 
takes Hero's right hand and raises her from her knees.) 

Friar (holding Hero's hand). Lady, you come hither to 
be married to this count ? 
Hero. I do. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 69 

Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why 
you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to 
utter it. 

Claud. Know you any, Hero? 

Hero. None, my lord. 

Friar. Know you any, count? 

Leon. I dare make his answer, none. 

Claud. O, what men dare do ! what men may do ! 
What men daily do, not knowing what they do 1 

(Slight start of surprise from giiests?) 

STOP m«sic* 

Stand thee by, Friar (Claud, takes Hero's left hand in 
his right — the Friar releases her right hand — ajid 
turns to Leon., who conies forward a step)y Father, 
by your leave : 
Will you, with free and inconstrained soul. 
Give me this maid, your daughter ? 
Leon. As freely, son, as Heaven did give her me. 
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth 

May counterpoise this rich and precious gift ? 
Don p. Nothing, unless you render her again. 
Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. 
There, Leonato, take her back again. 

(^Drawing Hero a step left toivard Leon. , puts her across to 
Leon ; goes to r. of Leon, and turns. Leon, moves close 
to Hero, who clings to him as soon as she realizes the 
purport of Q\.PiS3jy'?> speech.') 

She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. 

Behold how like a maid she blushes here ! 

Would you not swear, 

All you that see her, that she were a maid. 

By these exterior shows ? But she is none : 

Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 
Leon, {stunned). What do you mean, my lord ? 
Claud. Not to be married, 

Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. 
Leon, {with sudden ivrathful suspicion). Dear my lord, if 
you 



70 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Claud. (Jnterrupii?ig him with a gesture). 
1 know what you would say ; 

No, Leonato, 

I never tempted her with word too large; 

But, as a brother to his sister, show'd 

Bashful sincerity and comely love. 
Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? 
Claud. Out on thy seeming ! 

You seem to me as Dian in her orb, 

As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown j 

But you are more intemperate in your blood 

Than Venus ! 
Hero {stunned). Is my lord well, that he doth speak so 

wide ? 
Claud, {turning to Don P.). Sweet prince, why speak not 

you? 
Don p. {coming forward and putting his arm over Claud. 's 
shoulder).^ What should I speak ? 

I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about 

To link my dear friend to a wanton here. 
Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream ? 
Don J. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. 
Hero {turning and throwing herself into the arms of Beat. , 
who has meantime come down between Hero and 
the altar). " True ! " O God ! 

Claud. Leonato, stand I here ? 

Is this the prince ? Is this the prince's brother? 

Is this face Hero's ? Are our eyes our own? 

Let me but move one question to your daughter ; 

And, by that fatherly and kindly power 

That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 
Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. 
Hero. O, Heaven defend me ! how am I beset I 

What kind of catechising call you this ? 
Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. 
Hero {turning with a proud flush). 

Is it not Hero ? Who can blot that name 

With any just reproach? 
Claud. Marry, that can Hero : 

Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 

What man was he talk'd with you yesternight 

Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? 
Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING /I 

{During above Ben. has advanced just into light , l. c. At the 
jnention of Don J. in Don P.'s speech he flashes a sudden 
keen glatice of suspicion at Don J., and then quietly steps 
back out of light?) 

Don p. {advancifig a little). Leonato, 

I am sorry you must hear : upon mine honour, 
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count 
Did see her, hear her, and at that hour last night 
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; 
Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, 
Confess' d the vile encounters they have had 
A thousand times in secret. 

{Draws Claud, a little l., as if to take him away. With a 
little shuddering cry of horror Hero again shrinks to 
Beat, and buries her face in Beat.'s breast.) 

Claud, {turning c. and stretching out his arms to Hero). 
O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been. 
If half thy outward graces had been placed 
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart I 
{Moving a step l. ) Farewell ! 

For thee 1*11 lock up all the gates of love. 
And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, 
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm. 

(Hero sinks down swooning. Beat. , kneeling at centre of altar 
steps, supports Hero.'s head in her lap. Don F. puts 
arm again about Claud., as if to comfort him and draw 
him away.) 

Beat. Why, how now, cousin ! wherefore sink you down ? 
Don J. Come, let us go. 

{He leads the way, followed by Don P. and Clavd., to the 
gate, up L., which the Verger opens. As Don J. reaches 
it he turns a?id lets Don P. and Q,\.k\3T>.,who have fol- 
lowed him, go first. He follows thein, with a swift glance 
back. They exit through gate and off to L.) 

{^As they exit Ben. turns up- stage and makes a beseeching ges- 
ture to the onlookers to go, and they exit through gate l. 
and off L. Verger, Girl C, Man 3, Man 2, Girl B, 
Girl A, Man i, Marg. a?idVRS, This Q-idX. should be 



72 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

made very quickly and quietly ^ and with awestruck looks. 
Ben. follows them up to gate. Closes gate behind them, 
and returns c. Ant. comes down on L. ^Leon., and at- 
tempts to co7?ifort him.^ 

Ben. (c). How doth the lady? 

Beat. Dead, I think. Help, uncle ! 

Hero ! why. Hero ! Uncle ! Signior Benedick ! 
Friar ! 
Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me ? 

(Hero revives a little.') 

Beat. How now, cousin Hero ? 

Friar (who has come down on altar steps, bending over 
Hero). 
Have comfort, lady. 

(Hero raises herself a little and looks about wonderingly.) 

Leon. Dost thou look up ? ' 

Friar. Yes, wherefore should she not ? 

Leon. Wherefore ! Why, doth not every earthly thing 

Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny 

The story that is printed in her blood? 

Do not live. Hero ; do not ope thine eyes : 

For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, 

Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches. 

Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one eye? 

Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ? 
Why had I one? 

Ah, mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, 

And mine that I was proud on ! 

O, she is fallen 

Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea 

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ! ( Crosses L.) 
Ben. (as Leon, crosses'). Sir, sir, be patient. 

Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied ! 
Ben. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night ? 
Beat. No, truly not ; although, until last night, 

I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 
Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd ! O, that is stronger made 

Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! 

Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 71 

Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness, 

Wash'd it with tears? {Atteniptifig to start away l.) 

Hence fron:i her ! (Ben. restrains him,) 
let her die ! 
Friar {on altar). 

Hear me a little ; 

For I have only silent been so long, 

By noting of the lady : I have mark'd 

A thousand blushing apparitions 

To start into her face ; a thousand innocent shames 

In angel whiteness beat away those blushes ; 

And in her eye there hath appeared a fire, 

To burn the errors that these princes hold 

Against her maiden truth. 

Trust not my age, 

My reverend calling, nor divinity, 

If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 

Under some blighting error. 
Leon. Friar, it cannot be. She denies it not : 

Why seek'st thou then, to cover with excuse 

That which appears in proper nakedness? 
Friar {raisitig her). 

Lady, what man is he you are accused of? 

(Hero gets to her feet, the Friar assisting, and Beat, sup- 
porting her.) 

Hero (zvearily). They know that do accuse me. I know 
none : 

(7'(?Le0n.) O my father, 
Prove you that any man with me conversed 
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, — 
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death ! 

{Turns sobbing and again hides her face on Beat.'s breast.) 

Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. 

Ben. Two of them have the very bent of honour ; 
And if their wisdom be misled in this, 
The practise of it lies in John the bastard. 

Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, 

These hands shall tear her ; [crosses Ben. to c. Ant. 
comes to r. of Leon.) if they wrong her honour, 



74 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 

Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 

Nor age so eat up my invention, 

Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, 

But they shall find, awaked in such a cause, 

Both strength of limb and policy of mind, 

To quit me of them thoroughly. 
Friar {coming to Leon., c). Pause awhile, 

And let my counsel sway you in this case. 

Your daughter here the princes left for dead : 

Let her awhile be secretly kept in, 

And publish it that she is dead indeed. 
Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do? 
Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf 

Change slander to remorse ; that is some good : 

She dying, as it must be so maintain'd 

Upon the instant that she was accused. 

Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused 

Of every hearer. 

So will it fare with Claudio : 

When he shall hear she died upon his words, 

The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 

Into his study of imagination ; 

And every lovely organ of her life 

Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 

'Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 

Than when she lived indeed ; then shall he mourn. 

And wish he had not so accused her, 

No, though he thought his accusation true. 

{Goes to Hero, who turns to him and shrinks into his arms 
as if for protection. He leads her a little c. Beat, sithks 
down on steps of altar, her head resting on her right hand, 
her left hand hangifig by her side.) 

Ben. Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you : 
And though you know my inwardness and love 
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, 
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this 
As secretly and justly as your soul 
Should with your body. 

Leon. Being that I flow in grief. 

The smallest twine may lead me. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 75 

(Ant. turns him up c. as if to take him off up r.) 

Friar. 'Tis well consented : presently away ; 

Come lady, die to live : {turns Hero up toward r. 2 e., 

and speaking as they go') this wedding day 
Perhaps is but prolong'd : have patience and endure. 

Exit Hero and Friar through r. 2 e,, above altar and off r., 
closely followed by Ant. support ifig Leon. 

{After a fnomenfs pause, Ben., c, looks for a moment at the 
weepi?ig Beat, with infinite compassion and the?t goes to 
her, and kneeling beside her takes left hand te?iderly. She; 
does not withdraw it.) 

Ben. (after a moment). Lady Beatrice, have you wept all 
this while ? 

Beat, {still kneeling and with averted face). Yea, and 1 
will weep a while longer. 

Ben. {rising, but retaining her hand ). I will not desire 
that. 

Beat, {rising and crossing him l., to c, as if to conceal her 
tears). You have no reason ; I do it freely. 

Ben. (following her a little toward c). Surely I do believe 
your fair cousin is wronged. 

Beat, {turning toward him quickly, with a flash of grati- 
tude, and slowly, but without too much personal tneaning). 
Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right 
her ! (Crosses him r. to altar.) 

Ben. Is there any way to show such friendship ? 

Beat, (her back turned to him, stafiding before altar ; 
slowly). A very even way, but no such friend. 

Ben. May a man do it ? 

Beat, (still turned from him). It is a man's office, but 
not yours. 

(A momenfs silence.) 

Ben. (he goes to her and takes her left hand, and then). I 
do love nothing in the world so well as you : is not that 
strange ? 

Beat. As strange as — the thing I know not. (Half con- 
fessing.) It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so 
well as you : {half withdrawing) but believe me not ; and yet 
(again yielding) I lie not ; — {withdrawing her hand) I confess 



76 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

nothing, nor I deny nothing. {^Kneels down at altar rail, and 
hides face in her hands.) I am sorry for my cousin. 

Ben. {slowly, ivith a ring of triumph in his voice). By my 
sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. 

Beat, {still turned away and kfieeli?ig). Do not swear by 
it, and eat it. 

Ben. I will swear by it that you love me ; and I will make 
him eat it that says I love not you. 

Beat, {rising, but still with averted face, — tremulously). 
Will you not eat your word ? 

Ben. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I 
love thee. 

Beat, {half turning toward him). Why, then {turning 
away again, in a half aside). Heaven forgive me 

Ben. What offence, sweet Beatrice? 

Beat, {her face averted). You have stayed me in a happy 
hour : I was — about to — protest — I loved you. 

Ben. {seizes her ha?id again). And do it with all thy heart. 

Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that ingoing to 
him) none is left to pretest. 

Ben. {Jie clasps her in his arms, and then, after a momenfs 
sile?ice, passionately, but slowly atid quietly). Come, bid me 
do anything for thee. 

Beat, (jhe raises her head from his breast and draws her 
hands down his arms till she has hitn at ann' s length, and 
then, gazing unflinchingly into his eyes says quietly, but with 
an intense depth of eniotiofial feeling). Kill Claudio. 

Ben. {stands for a moment stupefied, as if not comprehend- 
ing her words, and then, drawifig back a step or two, and in 
an awed whisper). Ha ! not for the wide world. 

Beat, {with a little choked cry). You kill me to deny it. 
{Turns froin him and starts as if to exit R. u. E.) Farewell. 

Ben. {pursuing her a?id catching her — behind her). Tarry, 
sweet Beatrice. 

Beat, {with great pathos, gazing into his eyes). I am gone, 
though I am here ; {starts down c. away from him) there is 
no love in you : {he follows, not releasing her, and she says in 
a voice choked with tears) nay, I pray you, let me go. 

{He releases her and she goes down L. c.) 

Ben. {coming c. toward her, with outstretched arms). Bea- 
trice 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 77 

Beat, {turning toward him, down L. c). In faith, I 
will go. 

Ben. We'll be friends first. 

Beat, {unth a little flash of pride). You dare easier be 
friends with me than fight with mine enemy. 

Ben. Is Claudio thine enemy ? 

Beat, {draiving herself up). Is he not approved in the 
height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my 
kinswoman? O that I were a man ! {Crosses him r. to r. c. 
and turns. He counters to l. c.) What, bear her in hand 
until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusa- 
tion, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, — O God, that I 
were a man ! I would eat his heart in the market-place. 

{Goes R. to steps.) 

Ben. {coming c). Hear me, Beatrice. 

Beat. {tur?ting). Talk with a man out at a window ! A 
proper saying ! 

Ben. {coming toward her r, c, beseechingly). Nay, but, 
Beatrice 

Beat, {crossing him l. to l. c). Sweet Hero ! She is 
wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. 

Ben. Beat 

Beat, {turning l. c). Princes and counties ! Surely, a 
prilicely testimony, a goodly count ! O that I were a man for 
his sake ! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake ! 
But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment 
{crosses him r. to altar), he is now as valiant as Hercules that 
only tells a he, and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, 
therefore {sitiking down on steps of altar), I will die a woman 
with grieving, 

Ben. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. 

Beat, {on altar steps, her face hidden). Use it for my 
love some other way than swearing by it. 

{A pause.) 

Ben. {approaching her a little, and then solemnly). Think 
you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? 

Beat, (rising on altar steps, her ha?id raised). Yea, as 
sure as I have a thought or a soul. 

Ben. Enough, I am engaged ; I will challenge him. {With 

WARN curtain* 



78 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

a little cry of passionate thankfulness Beat, comes to him at 
foot of altar steps and gives him both hands.) I will kiss your 
hand, and so I leave you. {Bends over her hand and kisses 
it reverently, and then, releasifig her hands and drawijig back 
a few steps, and with his ow?i hand to his sword.') By this 
hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. {Goes l. c. as 
if to exit by gate l., atid turns.') As you hear of me, so think 
of me. Go, comfort your cousin : I must say she is dead : and 
so, farewell. ( Goes to gate up l. and turns. ) 

{As Ben. turns dt the gate he finds Beat, standing at altar 
steps, her arms outstretched toward him. He rushes to 
her, she to him, and they meet c. She falls into his arms, 
sobbing, and buries her face on his breast. Picture.) 



CURTAIN 



Scene 2. — A prison, 

{At rise, discovered, Sea., sitting in chair r. of table R., Oat. 
sitting on down-stage end of table. Seneschal, Man 3 and 
Servant 4 standing grouped to l. of table. Their bills 
are leaning against the wall in the corners up back.) 

KntQt from door up l., Verg. ; he coughs warningly. The 
Watchmen rise hurriedly attd go up back and line up, 
facing audience. Enter door up l., Dog., for whotn 
Verg. holds the door open. Comes r. and sits in chair 
behind table. Verg. crosses aftd sits on stool R. below 
table. 

Dog. Is our whole dissembly appeared ? 

Enter Sex. 

Verg. {seeing Sex., rising and crossing L., brings chair 
and cushion from below door l., and places them at L. upper 
corner of table). O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. 



e> 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 79 

(Sex. crosses and seats himself at l. upper corner of table and 
opens his book. Verg. waves to Watchmen, who move 
down L. and group — Seneschal and Man 3 down stage 
— and then reseats himself Vi., below tabled) 

Sex. Which be the malefactors ? 

Dog. Marry, that am I and (indicating Verg.) my partner. 

Verg. Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition to ex- 
amine. 

Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined ? 
let them come before master constable. 

Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. (^Gestures to 
Seneschal and Man 3, who cross r., tmchain and unbolt door 
down R., and beckon prisoners to come out of cell. Enter 
Con., who goes l. c, followed by Man 3, who stands l. of 
him and above him. Enter Bor., preceded by ^miE?>CYiA.i., atid 
goes to r. of Con. Seneschal stands behind Bor. Oat. 
and Sea. move down l. Dog. to Bor.). What is your name, 
friend ? 

Bor. Borachio. 

Dog. Pray, write down, Borachio. {To Con.) Yours, 
sirrah ? 

Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. 

Dog. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, 
do you serve Heaven ? 

Con. Yea, sir, we hope. 

Dog. Write down, that they hope they serve Heaven. 
{Rises and leans over table ^ stopping ^'E.:^.'s writing to add.) 
And write Heaven first ; for Heaven defend but Heaven should 
go before such villains. {Sits.) Masters, it is proved already 
that you are little better than false knaves ; and it will go near 
to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves ? 

Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. 

Dog. (aside to Verg.). A marvellous witty fellow, I assure 
you; but I will go about with >^m. (71? Bor.) Qoxxxq you 
hither, sirrah; (Bor. approaches to l. of table r.) a word in 
your ear : sir {whispering so that Con. ca?inot hear), I say to 
you, it is thought you are false knaves. 

Bor. Sir, I say to you we are none. 

Dog. {abashed). Well, stand aside. (Bor. returns to 
former position. To Verg.) 'Fore Heaven, they are both in 
a tale. {To Sex.) Have you writ down that they are 
none ? 



80 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Sex. Master Constable, you go not the way to examine : 
you must call forth the watch that are their accusers. 

Dog. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch 
come forth. (Moliofis to Sea. a7id Oat., who come to l. of 
Con.) Masters, I charge you, in the prince's name, accuse 
these men. 

Oat. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's 
brother, was a villain. 

Dog. {f'ising). Write down, Prince John a villain. Why, 
this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain. 

BoR. Master Constable — 

Dog. {ifiterrupting him sternly'). Pray thee, fellow, peace ; 
I do not Hke thy look, 1 promise thee. 

Sex. What heard you him say else ? 

• (Dog. sits.) 

Sea. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don 
John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. 

Dog. (f-ising). Flat burglary as ever was committed. 
Verg. [rising ). Yea, by the mass, that it is. 
Sex. What else, fellow ? 

(Dog. and Verg. sit.) 

Sea. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, 
to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry 
her. 

Dog. (leaning across the table and shaking his finger at 
BoR.). O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting 
redemption for this. 

Sex,. What else ? 

Sea. This is all. 

Sex. (rising and taking book under his arm). And this is 
more, masters, than you can deny. (Comes down to r. of 
BoR.) Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away ; Hero 
was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and 
upon the grief of this suddenly died. (Crosses Bor. and Con., 
L., turns L. <7/"CoN., and speaks across them to Dog.) Master 
constable, let these men be bound and brought to Leonato's : 
I will go before and show him their examination. 

(Goes up and exits, l. i e.) 

Dog. (rising). Come, let them be opinioned. ( Goes dowfi 
to front, L. of table. Verg. rises and goes down R.) 






MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 8 1 

(Seneschal and Man 3 come down behind Bor. and bind him. 
Sea. and Oat. a7id Servant 4 go behind Con. and bind 
him. Con. struggles a?id whole group works a little down 
L. Dog., as if to help tie Con., crosses toward him l.) 

Con. Off, coxcomb ! 

Dog. {starting back to c). God's my life, where's the sex- 
ton ? let him write down, the prince's officer, coxcomb. Come, 
bind them. {^Crossitig again toward Con.) Thou naughty 
varlet ! 

Con. Away : you are an ass, you are an ass. 

WARN cttftain. 

Dog. {backing away c). Dost thou not suspect my place? 
dost thou not suspect my years ? O that he were here to write 
me down an ass : But, masters, remember that 1 am an ass ; 
though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. 
{Again approaching Con.) No, thou villain, thou art full of 
piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a 
wise fellow ; and, which is more, an officer ; and, which is 
more, a householder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of 
flesh as any is in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; 
and a rich fellow enough, go to ; and a fellow that hath had 
losses; and one that hath two gowns, and everything hand- 
some about him. Bring him away. {Waves the group i.. c. 
out of his way. They crowd back up~stage. Dog. crosses to 
door up L. and turns.) O that I had been writ down an ass ! 

Exit. 

CURTAIN 



ACT V 

Scene i. — Courtyard before Leon.'s House. — Afternoon. 

{Discovered : Leon, seated in chair behind table R., his head 
buried i7i his arms o?i table. Ant. behind and R. of him 
betiding over him.) 



82 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Ant. {compassionately). If you go on thus, you will kill 
yourself; 

And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief 

Against yourself. 
Leon, (raising his head). I pray thee, cease thy counsel; 

Nor let no comforter delight mine ear 

But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. 

{Rises and crosses L. K^i. follows him to c) 

Bring me a father that so loved his child, 

Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, 

And bid him speak of patience. 

But there is no such man : for, brother, men 

Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief 

Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, 

Their counsel turns to passion. 

No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience 

To those that wring under the lead of sorrow, 

But no man's virtue nor sufficiency, 

To be so moral when he shall endure 

The like himself. 

{Goes to bench down l., and^ seating himself.) 

Therefore give me no counsel : 
My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 

Ant. {following Leon, to r. of bench down i..). Therein 
do men from children nothing differ. 

Leon, {rising and crossing Ant. to c). 

I pray thee, peace. 1 will be flesh and blood ; 
For there was never yet philosopher 
That could endure the toothache patiently, 
However they have writ the style of gods. 
And make a pish at chance and sufferance. 

Ant. {coming to "l. of \je.oi^.). 

Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; 
Make those that do offend you suffer too. 

Leon. There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will do so. 
My soul doth tell me Hero is belied ; 
And that shall Claudio know ; so shall the prince. 
And all of them that thus dishonor her. 

Enter Don P., l., and Claud., r., doivn steps r. 2 e. They 
hesitate a second^ as if regretful at having encountered the 
two old men. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 83 

Don p. {respectfully, but with slight constraifit). Good 
den, good den. {Goes up toward gate , up c.) 

Claud, {gravely, with respectful constraint, crossing with 
Don p. toward gate up e.). Good-day to both of you. 

Leon, {stopping them). Hear you, my lords 

Don p. {turning c, respectfully). We have some haste, 
Leonato. 

Leon. Some haste, my lord : well, fare you well, my lord : 
Are you so hasty now ? well, all is one. 

Don p. {coming dow?i to Leon., appealijigly). Nay, do not 
quarrel with us, good old man. 

Ant. If he could right himself with quarreling, 
^- Some of us would lie low. 

Claud, {coming r. below table ; with a touch of haughti- 
ness). Who wrongs him? 

Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou : — 

(Claud, involuntarily makes a gesture toward his sword, but 
immediately restrains himself.) 

Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; 
I fear thee not. ' 

Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, 

If it should give your age such cause of fear: 
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 

Leon. Tush, tush, man j never fleer and jest at me : 
I speak not like a dotard nor a fool. 
As, under privilege of age, to brag 
What I have done being young, or what would do, 
Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head. 
Thou hast so wrong' d mine innocent child and me, 
That I am forced to lay my reverence by. 
And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, 
Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 
I say thou hast belied mine innocent child. 

Don p. {gravely). You say not right, old man. 

Leon. My lord, my lord, 

I'll prove it on his body, if he dare. 
Despite his nice fence and his active practice, 
His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. 

Claud, {gently). Away : I will not have to do with you. 

{Starts up R. behind table, but stops r. of table as Leon. 

speaks.) 



84 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Leon. Canst thou so daff me ? 

Ant. {crossing Leon., r., and going l. of table r.). Let 
him answer me ! 

Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence ; 

Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. 

Leon. {restrai?iing Ant. by a gesture). Brother 

Ant. Content yourself. God knows I love my niece; 

And she is dead, slander' d to death by villains, 
. Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops ! 
Leon. Brother Antony 



Ant. Hold you content. What, man ! I know them, yea. 
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple, — 
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, 
That lie and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander, 
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, 
How they might hurt their enemies— if they durst : 
And this is all 1 

Leon. But, brother Antony 

Ant. Do not you meddle ; let me deal in this. 

Don p. {coming down l. of table between Ant. afid Leon.). 
Gentlemen both, we will not wake your passions. 
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death : 
But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing 
But what was true, and very full of proof. 

Leon. My lord, my lord 

Don p. {becko7iing Claud, and turning up c). I will not 
hear you. 

Leon. No ? Come, brother ; away ! I will be heard. 

{Turns l. to exit into house L.) 

Ant. {folloiving him l. ). And shall, {turning) or some of 
us will smart for it. 

Exeunt Leon, and Ant. into house l. 

{As they go, Don P. , pained at the occurrence, looks across at 
Claud., and then as if to follow the old men afid pacify 
them, crosses rapidly to house steps and goes up part way 
on steps. Decides not to follow them, turns ofi steps and 
sees Ben., comifig c. entrance from r.) 

Don p. See, see ; here comes the man we went to seek. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 85 

i^As Ben. enters, Don P. again turns thoughtfully to look 
into house so that he does not see Ben.'s slight of QhAVD, 
Enter C. from r. through gate, Ben., with grave a?id de- 
termined face, and comes c.) 

Claud, {as if relieved at his advenf). Now, signior, what 
news ? 

(Ben. turtis pointedly, ig?iorijig Claud. 's greeting. Don P. 
turns and cofnes down to meet Ben., l. c.) 

Ben. {to Don P.). Good-day, my lord. 

Don p. Welcome, signior : you are almost come to part 
almost a fray. 

Claud, (trying to cover his inward chagrin by taking the 
matter lightly ; but with more regret than flippancy in his tone). 
We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two 
old men without teeth. 

Don p. Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou ? 
{His inward chagrin at the occurrence plain in spite of the 
lightness of his words. ^ Had we fought, I doubt we should 
have been too young for them. 

Ben. (comitig down c). In a false quarrel there is no true 
valour. I came to seek you both. 

Claud, (r.). We have been up and down to seek thee ; for 
we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten 
away. Wilt thou use thy wit? 

Ben. {turning sharply upon Claud.). It is in my scab- 
bard : shall I draw it ? 

Don p. (wonderingly). As I am an honest man, he looks 
pale. Art thou sick, or angry ? 

Claud, {with forced lightness'). What, courage, man ! 
What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee 
to kill care. 

Ben. {sternly). Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an 
you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject. 

{Crosses to r., below table.) 

Don p. {to Claud.). By this light, he changes more and 
more : I think he be angry indeed. 

{As Claud, answers, Don Y., his mifid still on the old men, 
crosses to L., and gazes off after them into house.) 



86 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 

Ben. {seizing his opportunity as Don P. turtis awayL., and 
coming to R. of Claud.). Shall I speak a word in your ear? 
You are a villain ; I jest not : I will make it good how you dare, 
with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I 
will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and 
her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. 

( Turns away r. and crosses down r. below table around to 

up r, c.) 

Claud, (not understanding Ben.'s reason, but insulted , and 
accepting the challenge ; calling after hint). Well, I will meet 
you, so I may have good cheer. 

Don p. {turns to overhear Claud. 's ^^ good cheer,"" and 
coming down l. of Claud., and merrily, as if to banish his de- 
pression). What, a feast, a feast? 

Claud, (with bitter irony'). V faith, I thank him \ he hath 
bid me to a calf's head ; the which if I do not carve most 
curiously, say my knife's naught. 

(^Crosses down l. to bench l. and sits.) 

Ben. (^calling after him). Sir, your wit ambles well ; it 
goes easily. 

Don p. I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other 
day. {During the rest of this speech, comes gradually toward 
Ben., so that at the end of it he is atL. cor?ier of table. With 
a shrug, Ben. turns and goes down toR. of table r., and stands 
turned away.) I said, '^Thou hadst a fine wit : " ''True," 
said she, "a fine little one." " No," said I, ''a great wit" : 
"Right," says she, "a great gross one." *'Nay," said I, *'a 
good wit" : *' Just," said she, ''it hurts nobody." And thus 
did she, an hour together, trans- shape thy particular virtues : 
yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest 
man in Italy. 

Claud, (bitterly). For the which she wept heartily, and 
said she cared not. 

Don p. Yes, that she did. When shall we set the savage 
bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? 

Claud. Yea, and text underneath, ''Here dwells Benedick 
the married man " ? 

Ben. (crossing Don P. l. to c, and to Claud., sternly). 
Fare you well, boy : you know my mind. I will leave you now 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 87 

to your gossip-like humor ; you break jests as braggarts do their 
blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. {Tur7ii7ig to 
Don p., and with grave dignity.') My lord, for your many 
courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company : 
your brother is fled from Messina : you have among you killed 
a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he 
and 1 shall meet : and till then peace be with him. 

{Crosses L, and exit into house l.) 

Don p. {amazed, following Ben. to c. and looking after 
him, and then turning). He is in earnest ! 

Claud. In most profound earnest ; and, I'll warrant you, 
for the love of Beatrice. 

Don p. And hath challenged thee ? 

Claud. Most sincerely. 

Don p. {in amazed scorn). What a pretty thing man is 
wlien he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit ! 
{Pause ; then wonderingly, and coming down to R. of Claud. ) 
Did he not say, my brother was fled ? 

KntQvfrom r. 2 e. down steps Yerg. , Dog., followed dyBoR., 
who is guarded by Oat. and Sea. ; atid Con., who is 
guarded by Seneschal and Man 3. Bor. and Con. are 
bound. Verg. goes l. c. toward house as if to enter, but 
turns and stands up l. c. before porch. 

Dog. {motioning to Bor. behind him to follow, a?id by a 
gesture directing the guards to bring him down r. Bor., Con. 
and the guards group r. of table r., Bor. in advance of others). 
Come, you, sir : if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er 
weigh more reasons in her balance : {going toward house to c, 
and then turni?ig) nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, 
you must be looked to. 

{Starts again towards house, but stops c. as Don P. speaks.) 

Don p. (turning, and with surprised displeasure). How 
now ? two of my brother's men bound ! Borachio one ! 

Claud, {restraining him). Hearken after their offence, my 
lord. 

Don p. Officers, what offence have these men done ? 

Dog. {comi?ig dow?i c). Marry, sir, they have committed 
false report ; moreover, they have spoken untruths ; secondarily, 
they are slanders ; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady ; 



88 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, 
they are lying knaves. 

Don p. First, I ask thee what they have done ; thirdly, I 
ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are 
committed ; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge ? 

Claud, {sitting on bench l.). Rightly reasoned, and in his 
own division. 

Dog. Marry, this it is, sir. 

Verg. (thrusting himself betweeti 'Dog. afidT>o^V,). Yes, 
in truth it is, sir. 

Don p. What is it, my good friends ? 

Dog. {thrustifigY-ERG. back'). Goodman Verges, sir, speaks 
a httle off the matter : an old man, sir, and his wits are not so 
blunt as, Heaven help, I would desire they were ; but, in faith, 
honest as the skin between his brows. 

Verg. {again coming forward'). Yes, I thank Heaven I 
am as honest as any man living, that is an old man and no 
honester than I. 

Dog. {waving him away). Comparisons are odorous : 
palabras, neighbor Verges. 

Don p. Neighbors, you are tedious. 

Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor 
duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as 
tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of 
your worship. 

Don p. All thy tediousness on me, ah ? 

Dog. Yea, an 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis. 

Verg. And so could I. 

Don p. I would fain know what you have to say. 

Verg. {interfering again). Marry, sir, our watch to-night, 
excepting your worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as ar- 
rant knaves as any in Messina. 

Dog. {taking Verg.'s right hand with his own right hand, 
and putting his left hand 07i Verg.'s shoulder). A good old 
man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, ''When the age is 
in, the wit is out." Well said, i' faith, neighbor Verges. An 
two men ride of a horse, {placing Verg. across to r. and back 
of hifnself) one must ride behind. An honest soul, i' faith, 
sir ; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread ; but, Heaven is to 
be worshipped, all men are not alike. 

Don p. Indeed, good master constable, he comes too short 
of you. 

Dog. Gifts that Heaven gives. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 89 

Don p. {crossing toward BoR. to r. c. As he crosses, 
Dog. and Verg. go to l. before steps l.). Who have you 
offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? 
(BoR. and his guard move to front of table r.) This learned 
constable is too cunning to be understood : what's your offence ? 

BOR. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer : 
do you hear me, and let this count kill me. (Claud, rises.') 
I have deceived even your very eyes : what your wisdom could 
not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light ; who, 
in the night, overheard me confessing to this man, how Don 
John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero ; how 
you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret 
in Hero's garments : how you disgraced her, when you should 
marry her : my villainy they have upon record ; which I had 
rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The 
lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation ; 
and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. 

Don p. (at l. corner of table r., to Claud.). Runs not this 
speech like iron through your blood ? 

Claud, (who^ during the latter part of Bor.'s speech, has 
worked over to L. of Don P.). I have drunk poison whiles 
he utter'd it. 

Don p. But did my brother set thee on to this ? 

Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. 

Don p. He is composed and framed of treachery : 

{Crosses L. and turns l.) 

And fled he is upon this villainy ! 
Claud. Sweet Hero: {goes l. /^ Don P., and falling on 
his shoulder, r. of hint) now thy image doth appear 
In the rare semblance that I loved it first ! 
Dog. {coming to c). Come, bring away the plaintiffs : by 
this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the 
matter : and, (to the watch) masters, do not forget to specify, 
when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. 

Verg. (still before steps L., looking off l.). Here, here 
comes master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. 

Reenter Leon, (i) and h.^T. (2), followed by Sex. {-^^ from 

house L. 

Leon, (crossing hastily r. to left of table R., followed by 



90 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

Ant., who stands l. of him). Which is the villain? Which 
of these is he ? 

(Sex. comes c. and is joined by Dog. on his r. and Verg. on 
his L. ; speaks with them for a moment^ and then quietly 
exits c, through gate and to li..') 

BoR. If you would know your wronger, look on me. 
Leon. Art thou, thou, the slave that with thy breath hast 
kill'd 

Mine innocent child ? 
BoR. Yea, even I alone. 

Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself: 

Here (turns l.) stand a pair of honourable men ; 

A third is fled, that had a hand in it. 

I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death : 

Record it with your high and worthy deeds : 

'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 
Claud, (coming to l. c). I know not how to pray your 
patience ; 

Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; 

Impose me to what penance your invention 

Can lay upon my sin : yet sinn'd I not 

But in mistaking. 
Don p. (coming to l. of Claud.). By my soul, nor I : 

And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 

I would bend under any heavy weight 

That he'll enjoin me to. 
Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live; 

That were impossible : but, I pray you both, 

Possess the people in Messina here 

How innocent she died ; and if your love 

Can labour aught in sad invention, 

Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, 

And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night : 

To-morrow morning come you to my house; 

And since you could not be my son-in-law, 

Be yet my nephew : (crosses Ant. to R. of Claud. 
Ant. takes Leon.'s p/ace l. of table) my brother 
hath a daughter, 

Almost the copy of my child that's dead, 

And she alone is heir to both of us : 

Give her the right you should have given her cousin, 

And so dies my revenge. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 91 

Claud. O noble sir, 

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me ! 

I do embrace your offer ; — {kneels to Leon, and kisses 

his hand') and dispose 
For henceforth of poor Claudio. {^Rises.) 

Leon. To-morrow, then, I will expect your coming. 

Don p. We will not fail. 

Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. 

Exeunt Don P. and Claud, through gate c. and off r. 

Leon, (watching thejn offy and then turning r. to BoR.). 
This naughty man 

Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 
Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong. 
BoR. {taking a step fortvard^ and warmly). No, by my 
soul, she was not; 
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me. 
Dog. {luhoj together with Verg., o?i his r,, has come down 
c. after exit of Don P. and Claud.). Moreover, sir, which 
indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the 
offender, did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembered 
in his punishment. 

Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. 

WARN curtain* 

Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend 
youth ; and I praise Heaven for you. 

Leon. There's for thy pains. {Starts to produce money.) 

{As Verg. sees Leon, fumble for his purse, he crowds for- 
ward to get it. Dog. with his right arm swings Verg. 
up-stage a fid behind him, and takes purse.) 

Dog. Heaven save the foundation ! 

Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank 
thee. 

Dog. (bowing himself back up-stage, toward gate c. , during 
speech, keepi?ig Verg., who is trying to get back to Leon., be- 
hind him). Heaven keep your worship ! I wish your worship 
well ; Heaven restore you to health ! I humbly give you leave 
to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, Heaven 



92 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

prohibit it ! {Turns up c. and exhibits purse to Verg., as if 
to lure him away, afid then pocketing purse.') Come, neighbor. 

Exit gate c. and off R. 

(VpRG. stands at gate distracted, not knowing whether to fol- 
low Dog. or come down to Leon.) 



CURTAIN 



WARN music* 

Scene 2. — Outside Leonato's Monument.— Just before day- 
break. 

Enter, l. i e., Man i, with torch ; crosses r. to r. of entrance 
to monument and turns. 

Enter together, Claud., r., and Don P., l., l. i e. As they 
get c, enter, l. i e., four Choir Men with torches, and 
stand grouped L. c. 

Claud, {to Man i). Is this the monument of Leonato ? 

Man I. It is, my lord. 

Claud, (c, reading out of a scroll). 

Done to death by slanderous tongues 

Was the Hero that here lies : 
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, 

Gives her fame which never dies. 
So the life that died with shame 
Lives in death with glorious fame. 

{Hanging the scroll upon the iron gate of the monument.) 

Hang thou there upon the tomb. 
Praising her when I am dumb. 

{Turning to singers.) 
Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. 



Choir. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 93 

MUSIC 

SONG 

Pardon, goddess of the night, 
Those that slew thy virgin knight; 
For the which, with songs of woe, 
Round about her tomb they go. 

Midnight, assist our moan ; 
Help us to sigh and groan, 

Heavily, heavily : 
Graves, yawn, and yield your dead. 



WARN curtain. 



Till death be uttered. 
Heavily, heavily. 



{Toward end of song Claud., as if overcome by emotiony turns 
atid kneels before entratice to monument.') 

Don p. (/^ singers). 

Good-morrow, masters ; put your torches out : 

The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle day, 
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 

Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. 
Thanks to you all, and leave us : fare you well. 

(Exit Chorus Men, l. i e. Man i, with torch, remains 
R. c. After they have gone Don P. turns to Claud, and raises 
him compassionately.) Come, let us hence, and put on other 
weeds; and then to Leonato's. 

(Starts to lead him off, l. i E. Man i starts to follow. As 

they cross to exit) 



CURTAIN 



94 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 



Scene 3. — Hall in Leonato's House. — Morning. 

'E.nX.&v from r. u. e., down steps, Friar, r., and 'Leoh., l., 
conversing, followed by Ben., r., and Atsit., l. 

Friar (coming down to r. c, through r. arch). Did 1 not 
tell you she was innocent ? 

Leon, {crossing the Friar l. to l. c, and turning lu.c, 
Leon, down-stage, Friar upstage). 

So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her 
Upon the error that you heard debated. 

'EiVitQV from l. u. e., down steps, Beat., l., with Hero, r. — 
Beat, has her arm about Wymo— followed by Marg., Urs., 
Girl A and Girl B in a group. Beat, ajid Hero co?ne to 
c. afid stand under arch c ; Marg., Urs., Girl A and 
Girl B group behind them up c. 

Ant. {coming down with Ben. through r. arch and stand- 
ing R. c.). Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. 

Ben. (r. of Ant.). And so am I, being else by faith 
enforced 
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. 

(Leon. , going c. , to meet Hero as she comes down, and stand- 
ing L. of her, taking her hand. Beat, releases Hero and 
moves to l. of Leon.) 

Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, 
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, 
And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. 

(Urs., Marg., Girl A and Girl B cross up\.. towardi.. u. e., 
and as they reach steps, turn and wait for Hero and 
Beat.) 

The prince and Claudio promised by this hour 
To visit me. You know your office, brother : 

(Ant. comes to r. ^Hero, and takes Hero's hafid from Leon.) 

You must be father to your brother's daughter, 
And give her to young Claudio. 

[Crosses dotv?i l. c. to r. ^ Friar.) 

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 95 

{Leads Hero up to l. u. e., where he leaves her. She exits 
X. u. E. As Hero and Ant. start upy Marg., Uks., 
SiRL A atid Girl B exeunt l. u. 's.., preceding Hero. 
As Hero and Ant. go up, Beat, starts to follow. She 
has, 2ip to now, studiously kept her eyes from Ben., who 
has been gazing at her, but as she turns to go, she throws 
him a swift glance, with a touch of her old roguery in it, 
and then immediately dropping her eyes agai?t, follows 
Hero, and exits l. u. e. After exit of Beat., Ant. 
quietly comes dowfi through i.. arch and stands L. of Leon.) 

Ben. {after watching Beat, off, and coming c.^. Friar, I 
must entreat your pains, I think. 
Friar. To do what, signior ? 
Ben. To bind me, or undo me ; one of them ; 

{Turns to Leon.) 

Signior Leonato, — truth it is, good signior, 

{Hesitating, embarrassed how to put it,) 

Your niece . . . 

{Blurting it out awkwardly.') 

regards me with an eye of favour. 
Leon, {enigmatically, and with a quizzical smile, to puzzle 
Ben.). That eye my daughter lent her : 'tis most 
true. 
Ben. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 
Leon, {still enig7natically). The sight whereof I think you 
had from me. 
From Claudio, and the prince : but what's your will? 
Ben. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 

But, for my will, my will is, your good will 
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd 
In the state of honourable marriage : 
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. 
Leon. {crossi7igY^\k^ to r. ^Ben., and giving his hand). 
My heart is with your liking. 

Friar. And my help. 

KniGT from r. u. e., Claud,, l. andBotJ P., r., and come 
down through c. arch to between Ben. a7id Leon. Fol- 
lowed by Man i a7id Man 2 who stop c. and gradually 



96 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

work to L. c. above l. arch, which they reach before re- 
entrance of ladies. Followed by Man 3 and'Qo'^ and 
Servant 4, who stand up r., a little L. of steps. 

Don p. (coming down). Good-morrow to this fair assembly. 

READY music. 

Leon. Good -morrow, prince; good-morrow, Claudio : 
We here attend you. Are you yet determined 
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? 

Claud. I'll hold my mind. 

Leon, {to Ant.). Call her forth, brother; here's the friar 
ready. 

(Ant. goes up l. and^Y^X. l. u. e. Claud, goes to l. of Leon.) 

Don p. {turning r. to Ben., who is leaning against pillar, 
absorbed in his owfi mediiatiofi, his face wreathed in smiles). 
Good-morrow, Benedick. (Ben. starts and ^^ comes to.^^) 
Why, what's the matter, 
That you have such a February face. 
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? 

(Ben. turns away, half embarrassed and goes r. Don P. 
winking across to Leon, and Claud. ) 

I think he thinks upon the savage bull. 

(Claud., seeing ladies entering l. u. e., goes to l. e?/" Don P., 
R. L., lay i fig his hand o?i his arm to stop his jesting. 
To Don P.) 

Claud. Here comes other reckonings. 

MUSIC 

IE^vAqt from -L. u. e. Ant., r., leading Hero, l., veiled. 
Beat., veiled. Marg. r., veiled, and Urs., l., veiled. 
Girl A, r., and Columbine, l. Girl B, r. and Girl C, l. 

Enter Choir in a group, six boys without instruments, and 
four men — includijig Balth. The procession crosses to 
R. and turns down c. Ant. a7id Hero come down C, in 
front of c. arch, between Claud. a7id Leon. Beat. 
stands c, under Q. arch. Marg. a?id Urs. come behind 
and a little to l. of Beat. Girl A and Columbine to R., 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 9/ 

as if to watch proceedings through r. arch, and Man 3 
follows them down and stands behind them. Girl B 
a?td Girl C remain up c, where they are joi?ied by Boy 
and Servant 4. 

STOP music* 

Claud, (after all have entered and are in positioTis). Which 

is the lady ? 
Ant. (l. of Hero, under c. arcK). This same is she, and 

1 do give you her. 
Claud, {steps toward Hero). Why, then she's mine. 

Sweet, let me see your face. 
Leon, {taking Hero's left hand and drawing her a step L. 
Ant. falls back to r. of Beat.). 

No, that you shall not, till you take her hand 
Before this friar, and swear to marry her. 
Claud, {going to Hero and taking her right hand). 
Give me your hand : {kneels) before this holy friar? 
I am your husband, if you like of me. ' 
Hero. And when I lived, 

{Releasing her hand, unveiling and stepping back a little L.) 

I was your other wife : 
And when you loved, you were my other husband. 

Claud, {rising, amazed — slowly). Another Hero I 

Hero. Nothing certainer : 

One Hero died — but 1 do live. 

(Claud, goes to her — on her r. — and takes her in his arms.) 

Don p. {coming r. c). The former Hero ! Hero that is 
dead ! 

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. 

Friar {coming for ivard on L. of Leon.). 
All this amazement can I qualify : 
When after that the holy rites are ended, 
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death : 

{Crossing Leon., Hero and Claud, to c, where Don P. 

foi7is him.) 

Meantime let wonder seem familiar, 
And to the chapel let us presently. 
Ben. {coming r. c. as Friar crosses — stopping him). Soft 
and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? 



98 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

(Friar stops and turns c. Don P. continues up and stands 

R. <2/'Ant,) 

Beat, (comifig down to l. of Friar and unmasking^ — -luith 
pretended imiocence^. I answer to that name. 
What is your will ? 

(Friar goes up and stands l. of Ant. Hero, Claud, and 
Leon, work a little l. and look on amused.^ 

Ben. {surprised at her question, and then confused, blurting 

out). Do not you love me? 
Beat, (c, with pretended surprise^. Why, no; — no more 

than reason. 
Ben. (r. c). Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and 

Claudio 
Have been deceived ; they swore you did. 

(Don p. steals down to r. of Ben., followed by Ant. and 
Friar, who go down r.) 

Beat. Do not you love me ? 

Ben. Troth, no; — **no more than reason." 

Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula 

{As Beat, mentions them, Marg. and X^y^s^. pointedly cross to 
L. c. in front of Man i and Man 2.) 

Are much deceived ; for they did swear you did. 

(Ben. and Beat, turn, facing away from each other.') 

Ben. (over his shoulder'). They swore that you were almost 
sick for me. 

Beat, {over her shoulder). They swore that you were well- 
nigh dead for me. 

Ben. 'Tis no such matter. 

{Takes a step down r., and then turning.) 

Then you do not love me ? 
Beat, {turning and dropping a mocking courtesy). No, 

truly, but in friendly recompence. 
Hero. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. 

(Beat, gestures to Hero to hold her tongue.) 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 99 

Don p. And I'll be sworn upon 't that he loves her ; 

For (^producifig paper) here's a paper written in his 
hand, 

(Ben. jumps at Don P. and attempts to seize sonnet. Don P. 
holds him at arms^ length.) 

A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, 
Fashion' d to Beatrice. 
Hero. And here's another, 

{Producing paper. ) 

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, 

(Beat, goes to r. of Hero, and attempts to snatch paper ; but 
Hero passes it to Claud., who datigles it above Beat.'s 
head, teasingly.) 

Containing her affection unto Benedick. 

{A tnomenfs pause. Then Beat, and Ben. turn toward each 
other slowly, and simultaneously, and their faces break 
ifito sheepish smiles.] 

Ben. a miracle ! here's our own hands against our hearts. 

{Coming to c, and holding out his arms to Beat.) 

Come, I will have thee \ but, by this light, I take thee 
for pity. 

(Hero pushes Beat, toward Ben., Beat, half hanging back, 
and speaking as she is pushed down.) 

Beat. 1 would not deny you ; but, by this good day, 

I yield upon great persuasion ; and partly to save your 

life, for 
I was told you were in a consumption. 

(Hero returns to her place.) 

Ben. (dashing at Beat, and catchifig her in his arms). 
Peace ! I will stop your mouth. {Kisses her.) 

WARN curtain. 

Don p. (r. c, with a peal of laughter). How dost thou, 
Benedick, the married man? 



ICX) MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 

WARN mwsic* 

Ben. {turning to him). I'll tell thee what, prince ; a college 
of wit-crackers cannot flout rae out of my humour. Dost thou 
think I care for a' satire or an epigram? No; if a man will 
be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about 
him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think noth- 
ing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and there- 
fore never flout at me for what 1 have said against it ; for man 
is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. Come, come ; 
let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our 
own hearts, and our wives' heels : therefore (with a gesture to 
Choir) play, music. Prince, thou art sad ; get thee a wife, 
get thee a wife. (Don P. turns up through r. arch and joins 
Columbine. • Claud, and Hero come c. and join Beat, and 
Ben.). Strike up. 

MUSIC 

(Choir sings.) 

{Dance.') 



CURTAIN 



LOST— A CHAPERON 

, A Comedy in Three Acts by Courtney Bruerton and W. S. Maulsby. 
Six male, nine female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an in- 
terior and an exterior. Plays a full evening. A lot of college girls in 
camp lose their chaperon for twenty-four hours, and are provided by a 
camp of college boys across the lake with plenty of excitement. The parts 
are all good, the situations are very funny and the lines full of laughs. 
Recommended for high-school performance. Price, 25" cents 

THE PRIVATE TUTOR 

A Farce in Three Acts by E. J. Whisler. Five male, three female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two simple interiors. Plays two hours. 
Tells of the endeavors of two college boys to disguise the fact that they have 
been " rusticated " from the family of one of them, Hans Dinklederfer, 
the leader of a German band, trying to make good in the character of a 
private tutor, is a scream. All the parts are good. A capital high-school 
play. Price, 2^ cents 

THE REBELLION OF MRS. BARCLAY 

A Comedy of Domestic Life in Two Acts by May E. Countryman. 
Three male, six female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, easy 
interiors. Plays one hour and three-quarters. A clever and amusing 
comedy with all the parts evenly good. There are many Mr, Barclays all 
over this country, and Mrs. Barclay's method of curing her particular one 
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male. Strongly recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

THE TRAMPS' CONVENTION 

An Entertainment in One Scene for Male Characters Only by Jessie A. 
Kelley, Seventeen male characters. Costumes, typical tramp dress ; 
scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour and a half. An entertainment in 
the vaudeville class, with possibilities of unlimited fun. Music can be in- 
troduced, if desired, though this is not necessary. The opening is very 
funny and original and the finish — The Ananias Club — can be worked up 
to any extent. Strongly recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

THE DAY THAT LINCOLN DIED 

A Play in One Act by Prescott Warren and Will Hutchins. Five male, 
two female characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, an easy exterior. Plays 
thirty minutes. A very effective play suited for a Lincoln Day entertain- 
ment. It offers plenty of comedy, and is a piece that we can heartily 
recommend. Professional stage-rights reserved. Price, 2^ cents 

PA'S NEW HOUSEKEEPER 

~ A Farce in One Act by Charles S. Bird. Three male, two female char- 
acters. Modern costumes ; scenery, a simple interior or none at all. Plays 
forty minutes. Jack Brown, visiting his chum, is tempted by his success 
in college theatricals to make up in the character of the new housekeeper, 
an attractive widow, who is expected but does not arrive. He takes in 
everybody and mixes things up generally. All the parts are first rate and 
the piece full of laughs. Strongly recommended. Price, /j" cents 



WILLOWDALE 

A Play in Three Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Seven males, five fe- 
males. Scenery, two easy interiors ; costumes, modern. This is a play of 
exceptional interest and power. Admirably suited for amateur perform- 
ance, all the parts being good. Godfrey is an admirable heavy part, Joel, 
Lem and Simon capital character parts, Mis' Hazey a novel eccentric bit, 
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Pricey 2^ cents 

THE VILLAGE SCHOOL MA'AM 

A Play in Three Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Six males, five females. 
Costumes, modern ; scenes, an interior and an exterior, or can be played in 
two interiors. Plays two hours or more. Combines a strong sympathetic 
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opportunity, are vigorously drawn and easily actable. No dialect parts, 
but plenty of variety in the comedy roles and lots of amusing incident. 
Can be strongly recommended. . Pricey 2^ cents 

BAR HAVEN 

A Comedy in Three Acts by Gordan V. May. Six males, five females. 
Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors and an exterior, not difftcult. 
Plays two hours. An excellent piece, mingling a strongly serious interest 
with abundant humor. Offers a great variety of good parts of nearly 
equal opportunity. Admirably suited for amateur performance, and 
strongly recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

DOWN IN MAINE 

A Drama in Four Acts by Charles Townsend, Eight male, four female 
characters. This play has no villains, no tangled plot nor sentimental 
love scenes; yet the climaxes are strong, the action brisk, and the humor 
genial, and the characters strongly drawn. Can be played in any hall ; 
scenery, of the easiest sort. Properties, few and simple ; costumes, 
modern. Plays a full evening. Strongly recommended. Price^ 2^ cents 

HIGBEE OF HARVARD 

A Comedy Drama in Three Acts by Charles Townsend. Five males, 
four females. Modern costumes ; scenes, two interiors and an exterior — 
the latter may be played as well in an interior, if preferred. Plays a full 
evening. A clever, up-to-date piece, well suited for amateur performance. 
No small parts; all good. Good plot, full of incident, no love-making, 
interest strong and sustained. Price, ij cents 

HOW JIM MADE GOOD 

A Comedy Drama in Four Acts by Charles S. Bird. Seven males, 
three females ; two male parts can be doubled. Costumes, modern ; 
scenery, three interiors. Plays two hours. An unusually sympathetic 
play, well suited to amateurs. Clean and easy to get up. Recommended 
to high schools. All the parts are good. Price, 2j cents 



THE CRIMSON COCOANUT 

And Other Plays 

By Ian Hay 

This collection contains the following titles, all of which can be con- 
fidently recommended for amateur performance in schools or elsewhere as 
high in tone and exceptionally amusing. Mr. Hay is well known as a 
novelist and literary man. 

THE CRIMSON COCOANUT 

An Absurdity in One Act. Four males, two females. Costumes, modern ; 
scenery, an interior. Plays thirty-five minutes. Mr. Pincher, of Scot- 
land Yard, in pursuit of some dangerous anarchists, entangles the lady 
of his choice and her father in some humorous perils, but ends by cap- 
turing both the criminals and the lady. Author's royalty of ^5.00 for 
amateur performance. 

A LATE DELIVERY 

A Play in Three Episodes. Three males, two females. Scene, an in- 
terior ; costumes, modern. Plays forty minutes. Bill, a middle-aged 
admirer of Marjorie, learns -just as he has finished a letter to her propos- 
ing marriage that Tim, a young man, is also in love with her. He as- 
sumes her to love his rival and does not mail the letter. She finds it on 
his desk and opens it, and learning the truth makes choice of the older 
and better man. Royalty for amateurs, ^5.00 for each performance. 

THE MISSING CARD 

A Comedietta in One Act. Two males, two females. Scene, an in- 
terior ; costumes, modern. Plays thirty minutes. Two elderly admirers 
of Mrs. Millington decide to -deal the pack to see which shall first propose 
to her, the one who gets the Queen of Hearts to win. She privately takes 
this card out of the pack and when they have gone through it in vain, 
announces her engagement to another man. Royalty for amateurs, ^555.00 
a performance. 

Price t all three in one volume^ jro cents 



THE MARRIAGE OF JACK AND JILL 

A Mother Goose Entertainment in Two Scenes 

By Lilian Clisby Bridgham 

Forty children. Costumes, wedding ; no scenery required. Plays 
forty minutes. A Mother Goose wedding and reception carried out by the 
smallest children. Very pretty and easy to get up ; strongly recommended. 
Not a pantomime merely, but calls for some speaking parts. 

Price, 8j cents 



THE ELOPEMENT OF ELLEN 

,A Farce Comedy in Three Acts by Marie J. Warren. Four males, 
three females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior and one exte- 
rior. Plays an hour and a half. A bright and ingenious little play, ad- 
mirably suited for amateur acting. Written for and originally produced 
by Wellesley College girls. Strongly recommended. 

Price, 2J cents 



A VIRGINIA HEROINE 

A Comedy in Three Acts by Susie G. McGlone. Eleven female char- 
acters. Scenery, easy ; costumes, modern. Plays one hour and forty-five 
minutes. Irish and Negro comedy parts, and two character parts; most 
of the characters young. A very easy and interesting play for girls, well 
suited for school performance. Romantic interest vi^ith lots of comedy. 

Price f 2^ cents 

OUR CHURCH FAIR 

A Farcical Entertainment in Two Acts by Jessie A. Kelley. Twelve 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour and 
a quarter. A humorous picture of the planning of the annual church fair 
by the ladies of the sewing circle. Full of local hits and general human 
nature, and a sure laugh-producer in any community. Can be recom- 
mended. Price, 2J cents 

ALL CHARLEY'S FAULT 

A Farce in Two Acts by Anthony E. Wills. Six males, three females. 
Scenery, an easy interior ; costumes, modern. Plays two hours. A very 
lively and laughable piece, full of action and admirably adapted for ama- 
teur performance. Dutch and Negro comedy characters. Plays very 
rapidly with lots of incident and not a dull moment. Strongly recom- 
mended. Price, 75 cents 

HOW THE STORY GREW 

An Entertainment for Women's Clubs in One Act by O. W. Gleason. 
Eight female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant ; may 
be given on a platform without any. Plays forty-five minutes. A very 
easy and amusing little piece, full of human nature and hitting off a well- 
known peculiarity of almost any community. Written for middle-aged 
women, and a sure hit with the audience. Price, ij cents 

THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 

A Comedy Drama in Four Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Six males, five 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays two hours. 
Easy to stage and full of interest. The female parts are the stronger, being 
exceptionally good. Negro and " hayseed " comedy parts. A very strong 
dramatic piece. Can be recommended. Price, 23 cents 



91, W. lineto'is lla^s 



THE MAGISTRATE ^^^®® "^ Three Acts. Twelve males, four 
females. Costumes, modem; scenery, all 
interior. Plays two hours and a halt. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMHB ?'tf '' ,'" f °7 ""f 

Eight males, five females. 
Costumes, modem ; scenery, all interiors. Plays a full evening. 

THE PR0FLI6ATE ^l^yi^^^urActs. seven males, Sve females. 
Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; 
costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS Farceinl'hreeActs.Nmemales.seven 

females. Costumes, modem; scenery, 
three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

TBE SECOND MRS. TANQDERAY ^'^ •^^/""^ ^'f ^Jf" 

^ males, five females. Cos- 

tumes, modem ; scenery, three interiors. P5ays a full evening. 

SWEET LAVENDER ^*^^^*^y ^ Three Acts. Seven males, four 
females. Scene, a single Interior ; costumes, 
modem. Plays a full evening. 

THE TIMES '^^''^^•^y ^ ^^-^^ Acts, six males, seven females. 
Scene, a single interior ; costumes, modern. Plays a 
full evening. 

THE WEAKER SEX ^*^"^®*^y ^^ Three Acts, Eight males, eight 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two 
interiors. Plays a full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMIIE °T*^ '" ,™T ^r'% '""' 

males, four females. Costumes, 
modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Waltn 1$. I3afeer & Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



013 997 996 5 



d)e 3^ilUam l^arreiTCWtton 
of paps ^ 



AS Yfill I IKV IT Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, foui 
Ao lUU MIaL 11 females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, va- 
ried. Plays a full evening. 

CAIWITTF ^'^^^^^ ^^ Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- 
S^AallLtLiLi tumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 

Play in Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 

MAffY STTIAWT Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
iTiAI\l tJlUAAl males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
period ; scenery, varied and elaborate. Plays a full evening. 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE S,X?Se?CtS: SS^SS, 

picturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a full evening. 

RICH Ff IF! I ^^^y ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^- Pif "^een males, two females. Scen- 
JXIVillvl^ALtU ery elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a full 
evening. 



THF RIVAT S Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females, 
full evening. 



Scenery varied ; costumes of the period. Pleys a 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER Sfe^S Slat"'lce/ei'^T 
ried ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. 

TWELFTH NiGHT; OR, WHAT YOC WliL S^fe^mfi?, 

three females. Costumes, picturesque : scenery, varied. Plays a 
full evening. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Walttv i^. isafeer & Company 

Ko. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



